


The Visitor~

by madllamamomma



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Drama, Drama & Romance, F/M, Family Drama, Family Secrets, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Love, Mental Health Issues, Secrets, Smut, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:47:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28841871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madllamamomma/pseuds/madllamamomma
Summary: [WARNING: Contains various smut, adult topics, profanity along with topics that can be triggering for some readers. Including: animal abuse, domestic violence/abuse, and blood/gore. Therefore content is NSFW, 18+ ONLY. Be smart little trash pandas, please.]Two months after returning from the Steppe (after Journey Back to the South~), Rhemi (my oc), Muriel and the rest of the gang are preparing for their small spring wedding.Things might however change after a strange and rather rude visitor comes by the shop, demanding that he is now the new owner of the building one drizzling afternoon.(Main characters, Muriel, Rhemi (my OC), Sir Martin (OC), Asra, Julian, Portia, & Nadia).
Relationships: Apprentice/Muriel (The Arcana), Muriel (The Arcana)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 31





	1. The Cards are Drawn~

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise Motha f*ckas!! Yes. This is the next arch I have talking about forever. I hope you all enjoy!

_**Part 1~** _

_**The Cards are Drawn~** _

It’s early this spring morning, too early for most, but outside the forest is wide awake. The bees buzzing, the birds chirping, the deer silently grazing, and the squirrels and chipmunks barking and squeaking away, all foraging for something to eat after the long sleep of hibernation. All seems quiet at the hermit’s hut, a small cottage under an old tree in the middle of these dense woods. However, inside, the two humans are sluggishly coming to life…

“...Come on, Mur—I’m gonna to be late for my appointment with the wedding planner… then I have a lunch date with Portia and Julian!” Rhemi groggily whines, but still has a large stupid horny smile as Muriel pulls her shirt up revealing her large rack. Gently, he kisses and caresses her breasts, swaying his hips on top of her, breathing eroticly and making hot little grunts. “—A-And…. Aren’t you supposed to meet the florist?…. Th—then help with the s-shop today??” She murmurs sweetly, trying her best to resist him, biting her lower lip, loving every kiss, every touch, every movement he makes.

A sharp shrug rolls off the hermit’s broad shoulders as he moves himself beside her, laying on his left side. “...Got a few hours to spare.” He whispers back with a soft snort, slipping his hand under the covers down the front of her underwear and starts running his two first fingers over her folds, feeling her wetness.

Just a moment ago, the two were reluctantly waking up and giving a simple good morning kiss to each other. But each kiss became more and more intense, and the hermit apparently started to crave his lovely soon-to-be wife. Feeling his fully erect member rubbing up against her makes her more aroused and hard pulses radiates from between her legs.

Giving him no resistance, he pulls the crotch of her panties over and starts to finger her gently with his large middle digit and she lifts up her closet leg to make it easier for him. Hissing and shivering, she starts to feel hot and tingling all over, even on this cool drizzly morning. “M-Muri— _Mmmmm~_ ” She whimpers as he tenderly peppers her neck with feather light kisses. Delicately tastes her skin with his tongue and she starts moving her hips unconsciously, getting more and more excited as he pulls his large fingers in and out of her pussy. Suddenly, her eyes widen and she begins to pout realizing herself and playfully slaps the mattress with her hand. “— _HEY!_ S-Stop distracting me with your god-like sexiness!!!”

A bit shocked at her outburst, he jolts and flushes. “Whatever!” Pulling his head and fingers away so he can sit up, he stares at her with a hard scoff. “.. ‘You can leave whenever you want.’.... Isn’t that what you always tell me?” He pulls down the warm covers and has that same smug face like he did that night in the south.

Rhemi gives him a cute pouty pointed look, he knows perfectly well that she doesn’t want to stop. Now the two start blushing uncontrollably, and neither attempt to move away. Finally, she sputters followed by a cute smirk, staring at his bottom lip as she reaches up, running her fingers through his hair. “I think I have officially corrupted you, Love.”

Trying his best not to melt into her touch, he takes her wrist, guides it to his lips and kisses her palm, his green eyes deep with lust. “ _Hmpf_ —Maybe…” He mutters as he takes off her underwear. Eagerly, she lifts her pelvis to help and teasingly takes them off slowly. Once to her ankles, she kicks them off to the floor with a little giggle. “...But you don't seem to mind.” Flirtatiously, he raises an eyebrow and fondles her left breast, making her moan even more.

Now that the panties are off, she sits herself up, gently pushing the center of Muriel’s chest, taking back the reins of this situation and cueing him to lay down and roll all the way to his back on the bed. Without the least bit of hesitation, he goes obediently as she flips onto all fours, facing the footboard. With a naughty looking smile, she hastily rips down his underwear and immediately makes quick work on his large throbbing erection. Lick the base of his shaft up all the way to the very tip, then she brings the head and carefully runs her lips over it, making him groan and mutter cocking his head back into the pillow. With a cute seductive giggle, she glances over to look into his emerald green eyes and kisses his cock sweetly, eventually taking him all into her mouth.

Muriel can’t help but enjoy his view, eyeing her bare ass as she continues to suck his hard cock. Reaching over with his large hands, he squeezes and very lightly smacks her right ass cheek and marvels at the way it jiggles. His sensual touch sends her in a little frenzy; She moans, wriggles her hips and toes, and he notices her entrance starts to drip with excitement. He snorts, amused at her reactions as she continues to vigorously give him oral pleasure, doing her best to make him lose his mind, and so far it’s working. Suddenly a lewd idea creeps into his brain and a mischievous grin spreads across his lips. “ _Hmpf_ … Two can play at this game.” He mutters as he sits up half way and grabs her hips with both hands, making her sit on his face.

The unexpected repositioning startles her a bit, and she pulls away from him as her hips become straddled over his mouth and he licks her wet entrance. “—H-Hey now!” She gasps. “ _Heeeey!”_ The feeling of his lips is a bit different from this angle, but it feels good regardless. “.....W-well… This—this is a new one— _Ahhhhhh…shit_ , Mur~” Glancing back down to his muscular torso, she feels like she should be doing more for him. His body is much longer than her’s, but luckily his cock long as well. Leaning back down, she still manages to reach his rock hard member. “ _Mmmmmm_ —Who’s the terrible one now??” She teases him, lightly stroking his member, licking his tip and sucking up all his precum, his hips twitch and he makes a muffled groan.

Lifting her pelvis away for a moment to catch his breath, rather quickly he readjusts, bending his trunk by resting his head on the pillow so she can get more of him and he cutely chuckles, “—Still you.” Wrapping his arms around her hips to bring her pussy closer, he continues to eat her out with such passion and vigor. Rhemi continues to suck, slurp, choke, and stroke Muriel’s fat cock, she muffles her moans and in return feels like she's in a erotic trance, her insides feeling hot and wet. She can feel his cock getting bigger and harder and she feels the tingling behind her abdomen, both climbing into a steady and hard orgasim.

Something makes the apprentice magician think she might be a bit late now…. _Oh well—Worth it~_

————————

It’s been two and half months since Rhemi and Muriel came back from the South and Spring is on its way along with their wedding day. All the snow has finally melted giving away to cold icy rain showers that chilled you right to the bone. However, the flowers and other vegetation were doing their best to bloom in spite of it all.

The couple have been planning a very small ceremony in spring since they returned back from the Steppe. Before they left, they were both satisfied with just getting eloped, but after they discovered that Muriel still had living Kokhuri relatives and spent the winter solstice with them, a lot of things changed. Not only did Muriel become more confident in his heritage, he became more confident in himself and in many other ways too. He was the one who brought up having a wedding ceremony and of course Rhemi was ecstatic. He couldn’t wait to see her walk down the aisle like she did before with her cousin Shona during the Gabhail Ris, the crematory his family conducted the day before they left to welcome her into the tribe. She was so beautiful, he can’t even fathom what she’d look like on their wedding day...

Winter flew by and the big day was soon looming over them. Both starting to feel excited as well as anxious, Rhemi and Muriel both became very busy in the preparations, and barely had time to breathe, let alone make time for one another. So this morning’s shared shenanigans was a breath of fresh air… but the fresh hickies were going to be a little difficult to hide. 

The engagement was the talk of the whole damn city. Everyone would stop the two, giving them advice and hoping good luck, which was sometimes annoying, but really kind and sweet nonetheless. People cared about the two champions, and wished them the best, which is all that really matters anyways.

Countess Nadia was officiating the ceremony. She even offered to cover all the costs of the wedding, and put Rhemi in the very best dress with the most finest materials. But the two couldn’t stress enough that they didn’t want anything over the top or crazy. Just a simple ceremony and a very small fun party afterwards of a select few friends would suffice. Some good food and drinks, possibly a little music and dancing would be nice.

Both Devoraks were very pleased to help Rhemi. Technically, Portia was the _Maid of Honor_ , but Julian sort of wiggled himself into being a bride’s man, but Rhemi didn’t really mind. He was incredibly supportive and he knew how to lighten the mood, especially when she was stressed. Surprisingly, having his assistance proved to be rather useful as well so Portia wasn't overwhelmed, and he was less annoying when he’s given a job to do. Asra was of course Muriel’s _Best Man_ or how he jokingly call himself _The Bastard of Honor_. Rhemi even asked he’d give her away when they returned back from the south. He felt very humble to do that for her. Rhemi is his best friend, and so is Muriel, so it only felt right that he would be the one who would walk her down.

Today, Rhemi, Portia, Julian, and Muriel had to take care of various tasks for the wedding, leaving Asra alone to watch the shop for a few hours. It was a particularly gray, cold, dreary spring day… With it being rainy, it was rather dead at the shop. Taking advantage of the time he now had, Asra decided to tidy up a bit. Going through some old boxes and crates someone had stored away in a forgotten crawl space underneath the staircase. Rhemi must have stored them before she worked for Julian during the plague, because she had no earthly idea what they were. Asra found them all right before Rhemi and Muriel returned from the south and nobody hadn’t gotten the chance to go through them until now. _Might as well before Muriel gets here._

As Asra started to pull them out, one caught his attention. A rather large chest buried in the back. It was particularly heavy, had a large rusty old lock clamping it shut tight, and it was labeled, _‘Fragile, please handle with care’_ in very elegant handwriting. Clearly it was Rhemi’s Aunt, Athena, who wrote this, and it must have been her’s before she died. Asra tries to open the simple old lock with his magic, for a moment it glows as if it was going to unlock for him, but then it fainted with a strange sound, staying locked tight. Upon further inspection, Asra noticed that the lock was enchanted with a powerful spell and felt his old teacher’s velvety smooth magic. “Of course it is…” Asra snorts, Athena apparently didn’t want it to be easily open. Asra sighs, and Faust slithers out of his shirt to the ground. Being the ever helpful little noodle that she is, Faust fetches the keys ring from the back room. “Aw, thanks.” Asra says with an appreciative pat. After another a long sigh, he begins the annoying task of finding the one correct key out of what seems to be about fifty.

Suddenly, a pull comes from Asra’s pocket where his Tarot cards are. He hasn’t felt them speak to him outside of a reading in some time. As he plucks the deck from his pocket, someone deep in the deck apparently wants to talk to him. After a quick shuffle, then he selects the three cards, sits on his knees, places them on the top of the chest in front of him face down for a reading. Hesitantly he flips the first to the card to the left over. Past, _The Fool,_ reversed— _Naivety, rage, recklessness._ Asra sighs a long exhale as he flips the next one over. Present, _King of Pentacles,_ also reversed— _Greed, materialistic, possessiveness._ These two cards seem to be humming almost, like they are singing a song. A sad one that Rhemi used to sing long ago before the plague. She said her mother used to sing it sometimes. He loved it when she sang, but never that song, it was meloncholic and somber to him. Somehow reminding you of what you lost. 

_Hmmm… this isn’t going very well…_ the magician cautiously eyes the last card, _the future_. This one seems to be almost screaming at him. Swallowing the lump in his throat he turns the card over, hoping it's better than the other two. Yet, instantly he feels a sense of dread wash over him as he sees what it is. _The Tower,_ upright— _chaos, destruction… disaster._

 _“A sudden change is coming, Asra….”_ An eerie shrill voice whispers in his head. _“... Better prepare yourself…”_

A cold shiver ran down his spine, he didn’t like the sound of that at all… A sudden change. That’s the last thing him or any of his friends need this year... “Please be after the wedding.” He murmurs to himself.

For now, Asra shakes it off and gets back to sifting through the large key ring to find the right one so he can open the chest. But as soon as he attempts to fit another key into the lock, the bell suddenly chimes from the front door. Faust and Asra look at each other a bit shocked. “Ohh, must be a customer.” Asra mutters to his familiar as he makes his way back to the front, stuffing the heavy keys into his front pants pocket. It’s pretty cold today, so Faust slither back into his shirt to warm herself and she settles beside Asra’s heart.

As Asra gets to the front near the counter, he notices that a man has entered the shop. Middle aged, he stood just about six foot tall, and was rather a peculiar fellow. He wore strange upscale clothes under a nice cobalt silk cape, an ornate feathered hat, leather gloves, and walked around with a fancy looking cane. It appears that he didn't need it for balance so much as a bold fashion statement; It was ornamented with a strange sphere shaped amber colored smooth stone on the handle and other precious stones all the way down. His hair was a very dark plum-ish color mixed with small silvery gray ends. His face was clean shaven, but had a nice strong chin, and cold teal-ish blue eyes. On his shoulders rested a thick bundle of black, white, and brownish pelt of fur over a blue silky cape.

The strange man doesn’t say anything to Asra as he enters the shop, seemingly preoccupied. Regardless, Asra smiles cheerily as he greets him like he does for everyone who comes in. “Morning.” He then glances over to the coo-coo clock on the wall as it chimes two times, two o’clock. To his surprise, the morning has flown by already. “Oh—Or should I say, _afternoon_.” He chuckles to himself, then looks back at the strange fellow. Still silent as the grave.

The man continues to walk about the shop without a word, not even looking at the items, he seems more interested in the building itself deeply lost in thought. Asra clears his throat, attempting to grab his attention, “.... Looking for something in particular? We are having a sale on potions this week. I can brew you anything from sleeping potions to dragon’s breath...” The man stays hushed, still scanning all around the shop, he even knocks on the wall and puts his ear to it. Asra smirks a little; perhaps they are just shy. “....Oooooor is it a reading you seek, Stranger?” He says pulling out his deck of tarot cards doing a few fancy tricks to see if it impresses him.

 _“Hmmmm?”_ At last the man turns to Asra stuffing a piece of paper into his vest pocket and glances at him with his dark piercing teal eyes. “.. _.. Ah_ … yes… a tenant.” He finally mutters, overannciating the ‘T’s. He has a fancy accent much like Nadia’s and the other nobles. His voice is deep and velvety, yet at the same time gruff at the end of each word. Something about it gives Asra goosebumps, but he puts on his best poker face and plays it off. As the man approaches the counter, Asra can’t help but tilt his head and squint his eyes slightly, trying his best not to stare… but he looks _familiar_ somehow. _Perhaps I have seen him before?_? He thinks to himself. _. No, no… I’d remember those clothes…_ The stranger looks like he could be a high noble, but he’s obviously not from Vesuvia. He sticks out like a sore thumb, but he’s strangely not accompanied by a normal entourage like one would think of such high nobility. _Why do I know his face?…_ Asra continues to ponder hard to himself. “... I suppose I should attempt to explain things to you.” He continues, sounding rather snooty.

Asra snorts, “Alright then”, slightly amused by the stranger’s as-a-matter-of-fact-ness. “Explain things to me.”

“Yes….. Well I am afraid I am now the owner of this… _. ummm…_. _. eehhh_ … The man vaguely waves his hand around the shop and looks all over with a slightly revolted looking sneer. “‘ _Eeeehh, establishment’_?...” Then his hand and eyes move back to Asra and he clicks his tongue before speaking again. “—You and your associates will be required to vacate the premises immediately.”

Unable to resist, Asra snickers a little but covers it with his hand and pretends to cough in attempts to be polite. “I.. _ah,_ I think you’ve got the wrong shop, Stranger. Sorry.”

Faust sticks her head out from Asra’s shirt. _“Oooo! Friend?”_ Flicking her tongue in and out. Two beady blue eyes open, and the large fur draped over the man’s shoulders suddenly stirs to life, whipping a mean face around, baring its nasty sharp teeth. The creature starts to snarl and drools hungrily at the sight of the snake. Asra and Faust jump, taken by surprise that the man’s fur was actually a living animal—a badger in fact—and a hungry one at that. Poor Faust quickly burrows herself back into his shirt trembling, _“Not friend!!!—Foe!! VERY FOE!!”_

Asra lightly cradles her through his shirt. “I-It’s ok, Faust. _Shhhhh…Shhh._ It’s ok...” But she's right, his looks aren’t the only thing Asra recognizes either. This stranger’s aura feels slightly familiar too. It’s strong and feels like a roaring rapids, almost overwhelming to be around, but smells like cinnamon and rusty metallic substance. With such a large aura like his, he has to be a magician, a rather strong one too.

A heavy sense of foreboding intoxicates the room. The man strokes the badger's head and it immediately leans into his hand as they exchange glances. “No, no, Beatrix, it’s not lunch time…” The man then darts his eyes back at Asra and raises an eyebrow at the quivering part of his shirt with a little smirk. _“...Yet.”_ The badger settles back down on the man’s shoulder, hungrily staring at the Asra’s shirt, licking her lips.

Asra's amusement and grin begins to fall as he starts to become irritated by this man’s ceaseless rudeness. No one threatens my little Faust. “Look, Pal…. This shop is owned by my friend and I, she inherited it five and a half years ago from her family.”

The man’s nose crinkles and a hint of pain flashes over his teal eyes. “...Interesting… well… I have apparently inherited it from…. her.” Asra flutters his eyes confused at this statement. The man reaches into his fancy purple vest once again and pulls a few pieces of paper from his inner pocket.

Asra suddenly hears the loud pitter patter of rain from outside as Muriel ducks through the front door, he didn’t even hear the bell. As soon as he shut the door, he caught Asra’s slightly wary look from this mysterious stranger. Knowingly, he silently makes his way over behind the glass counter to stand beside him. The man glances up, with a _“Hmpf._ ”, not even bothered by Muriel’s towering height, but does seem impressed by it.

“... Everything…. alright, Asra?” Muriel finally utters to his friend eyeing the stranger with his brow furrowed.

Before Asra could even start to answer, the stranger rolls his eyes and scoffs at him. “Well technically the answer is no… my good—ahh…” he pauses for a moment to look him up and down once again. “Sir..?—Or should I say _beastie_.” A scowl twitches up on Muriel’s face at the man's rudeness. “...The owner of the shop is no longer here and it is now in my responsibility…. and I believe you both are now trespassing on my property.”

“...No we’re not.” Muriel scoffs and folds his arms tightly, purposely leaning over him. “..My fiancée owns this shop. It belonged to her Aunt before her.”

The man huffs irritatedly and opens the piece of paper. “Well, whoever you betrothed is, she's apparently either a liar or a confused twit. As of nearly five years ago, I inherited this—” He stops once again and glances all over the shop with slight disgust. “...What even is this place?—A little...cheap potions and bobbles… shop?” He shakes and head and looks back at the piece of paper. “I inherited this property by the—”

_Ding-a-ling—Creeaaaaaaaak— BOOOOOM!!_

Just as the opens his mouth again to finish his sentence, Julian, Rhemi, and Portia loudly burst in the shop door with their ongoing conversation, giggling and carrying about, cutting the man off. They had just returned from a lunch date reviewing all the preparations, apparently talking about her wedding dress. “—Are you kidding??” Portia says excitedly. “He's going to— _OOPS!”_ She turns around and quickly covers her mouth as soon as she sees Muriel. Giddily, she spins back around shielding her lips, but still loudly whispers to Rhemi, “He’s gonna love it, Rem!”

“Yeah!! You look completely dazzling, my sweet friend!” Julian joins in the loud whispers. Rhemi's face is covered by a little colorful shawl, shielding her from the cold rain. Julian smirks towards Asra's direction, they all feel rather successful with their lunch date, he hastily takes off his wet coat and hangs it up. His smirk falls as soon as he notices the tension in the air and his lover’s concerned face.

The strange man suddenly loudly clears his throat, speaking over them without even a sideways glance. “As I was saying before I was _rudely_ interrupted by a gaggle of little giggling school girls….—” Portia, Julian, and Rhemi suddenly freeze near the front door. Portia looks up at the rude stranger, snickering at his surliness. Julian and Asra’s eyes meet, they exchange a concerned look and he furrows his brow a bit. Still under her shawl, Rhemi’s face starts to twist. Just who the hell does this asshole think he is coming into my shop, being rude to my soon to be husband and our best friend?! She thinks to herself feeling the heat swelling in her face.

The man continues with an even more of a smug look on his face. “—I inherited this establishment five years ago after the death of the late….” He nearly says the name, but it's like his body almost physically wouldn’t let him. His upper lip twitches a little when he finally speaks again, his voice shakes slightly. “The late… _Rhemi…. Niamh._ ” The way he speaks sounds like it pained him to utter those words. He then clears his throat once again and adjusts his frilly looking green cravat that is tied around his neck. 

Muriel’s eyes catch Rhemi’s as she starts to stomp over to the stranger, just fuming. Her bottom lip popping out, her brow now furrowed, and shoulders hiked. As she stands right next to the stranger, she places her hands on her hips with a wide stance, puffing her chest out. “ _Ah—_ excuse me, _Mister_ …. may I help you with something?” Her wet shawl still tightly over her head, slightly hiding her face, not yet having the chance to take it off. The badger starts to stir once again and seems to be sniffing the air like it smells something familiar, then she sneezes with a profound look on her face, but the man takes a deep annoyed exhale, dropping his shoulders a little, but stays right where he is, sorting the papers in his hand. At first it seems like he was going to flat out ignore her and she just repeats herself now tapping her foot loudly. “Mister... May. I. Help _.You_?”

Flaring his nostrils, he slowly turns his head around, eyeing her up and down and his cockiness infuriates her even further and she clenches her fist. “... _Ah_ … Yes… How could I have forgotten? You Vesuvian have such bloody atrocious manners.” He mutters under his breath, yet can be heard throughout the shop, simultaneously pissing off everyone around him. “... I do believe the men are talking, Madam… or should I say, _‘Ma’am’_ —” He utters and waves his hand to dismissively shoo her away before turning his gaze back to the counter.

It’s hard to say who’s more fumed at this very moment, the Devoraks, Muriel, Asra…. or Rhemi.

A small vein pops out on Rhemi’s forehead, and her left eyebrow twitches slightly, but she tries to keep herself poise and she opens her mouth to speak. Before she can utter a single word, the man makes a quick pulling motion with wrist and fingers and as she draws a breath in, her shawl seems to entangle itself, covering her face. Confused, she tugs at the shawl as her words muffle inaudibly under the cloth, and feeling his a hint of strange, but powerful magic. “Do run along and be a nuisance somewhere else, _woman._ ” The rude stranger chuckles, turning her around the opposite way with his magic. It feels like water… but only thicker and denser and grittier. 

With a quick motion of her right hand as well, she’s able to untangle herself from the shawl and gasps for air and she grits her teeth. “—Well that was a cute trick, _buddy!_ ” She grumbles through her teeth as she turns herself back around. The man’s eyes surprisingly move back to her, looking a little confused that someone was able to get out of his magical spell so quickly. “...Now if you would freakin’ listen to me, you’d know that I was trying to inform you that you’re talking about me, Mister!” She says as she pulls off her shawl off her head and shoulders. Her brownish-red hair now a bit frizzy and her eyes flashing a little reddish-yellow, tossing the scarf to the floor. She brings up her hand summoning a ball of fire into her left palm. “I am Rhe—”

The man glances down at her in his peripheral with a tut him cutting her off. He couldn’t believe the audacity of her, this was clearly a challenge. Out of nowhere, the badger’s eyes widen, fur stands on end as she’s Rhemi’s brownish-red hair. Beatrix loudly shrieks and dismounts off her master’s shoulder into the back room somewhere. “What do you mean _‘that’s her’,_ Bea?! That’s imposs—” Then without warning the man whips his entire face around towards her and screams, “—HOLY MOTHER OF FUCK!!!!” And nearly climbs all the way onto the glass countertop. Complete utter panic takes over his cocky stuck-up attitude and he starts to turn a bit pale. Asra and Muriel are startled by the man’s sudden outburst of terror. Muriel quickly swings around the counter to stand next to Rhemi, grabbing her waist, and pulling her close into his cloak, taking a few cautions steps backwards. She clutches his forearm as the man continues to flounder over the counter top. The color in his face continues to drain as he stares at her in utter disbelief. “R-R-Rhemielia?”

 _“....Rhemielia???”_ Portia repeats with an eyebrow raised. “What kind of name is that??”

Rhemi flutters her eyes, staring at him blankly, completely confused. _“Yeeeeeah… ummmmmm…_ No—my name is Rhemi...” The man then is completely lost for words and he just keeps opening and closing his mouth speechless. As if this couldn’t be any more awkward, Rhemi just smacks her lips. “ _Ummm.._. Can I help you, Mister? Or are you just going to continue to insult my friends and soon-to-be husband all day?” She doesn’t recognize the man at all, which makes her even more frustrated. It’s already been a long busy day, a guessing game was the last thing she wanted.

The man shakes his head and his pointer finger, trembling. “.... You-you— can’t be her…I-I—… S-she’s dead!! She died over five years ago!!” The man continues, still to becoming rather unhinged all over the nice glass counter.

 _Damn it… I just polished that last night.._ Rhemi groans to herself. “Sir…. You're getting smudges all over my nice clean counter.” She sighs, rubbing her left temple, her head is starting to ache a little. This was not something she wanted to deal with today. “Alright... I can tell this is gonna get weird…” She turns back to both of the Devoraks with an apologetic expression, still holding onto Muriel’s arms. “Hey, I’m gonna catch up with you two later, ok? I apparently have to take care of...… whatever _…. this_ is.”

Unconvinced, Portia places her hands on her hips, “You sure you don’t need us, Rem?”

Julian stands to his sister’s side. “Yeah, we can stay, _ahhhh_ , help you get rid of some trash.” Portia quickly gives Rhemi a wink, Julian gives a firm nod in agreement, and then as if they rehearsed this a thousand times, they both crack their knuckles in perfect unison.

Rhemi grins, shrugging, sometimes they can be a little extreme, but their gesture is rather sweet in a way. Those two will always have her back through thick and thin, which is rather appreciated. Rhemi pats Muriel on the arm that still is wrapped around her, and glances up at her very tall hermit, his eyes still glued to the stranger. “I think we’re good. But thank you. Could you please blow out the lantern on the way out?”

It’s clear that neither of them want to leave her. Asra nods to his lover, signaling that he was going to be alright too, and they both begrudgingly agree and quietly exit out the door, shutting it behind them with a solid clank.

The man just can’t stop staring at Rhemi as he laborly breathes, looking as if he’s trying not to faint. She can’t help but feel more annoyed. “What is so fascinating about my face, _buddy_??”

Sluggishly, he unclenches himself from the counter, still glaring, mortified at Rhemi’s presents. “Is— is it really _you?_? You-you’re really here?” The man’s face softens, looking emotionally and sorrowful at her. He lifts up his right hand, appearing like he’s about to reach out for her, but stops himself, drawing his hand back to his chest seeing the guarded look on her and Muriel’s faces. “My gods… you—you-you’re actually _alive_ … I thought you died from a deadly plague…”

“Yeah…. about that—” Rhemi scratches the back of her head unsure what to say exactly.

But before she can think of anything, Muriel barks, “....And who are _you_ exactly?? How do you know Rhemi?” Protectively, he tugs her a little closer to him. He’s right, only a few people need to know that she came back to life and she continues to clutch his forearm.

The man finally takes off his hat, placing it down on the counter, now ignoring Muriel and Asra completely. “You—… You.... Don’t remember?” Rhemi shrugs her shoulders, starting to almost feel pity for this man. Upset by her ignorance, he presses his hand into his chest. “...It’s me, my Little Pigeon!”

 _....Little Pigeon…. Why do I know that nickname?._... She starts to squint her eyes tilting her head, possibly feeling like she may remember something… _those teal eyes_. “...Who… who are you?”

As a few moments go by and the strange man throws up his palms irritably dumbfounded. “...Don’t you recognize our own flesh and blood, child?” He scoffs hard running his fingers through his neatly kept hair and mumbles. “....Mygod—What has that witch done to you?”

Arsa and Muriel go very still, looking completely bewildered. _Flesh and blood??_ Asra screams in his head. But she told me all of her biological family was dead….

Rhemi glances up at Muriel feeling at a loss. “I… I don’t remember much of anything past four years ago. I’m sorry… No. I don’t recognize you.”

“She… has amnesia.” Asra adds seeing exactly where this is going, Muriel just stays silent, but keeps his fiancée close to him, ready for whatever. “.... What are you to her?”

“Amnesia?” He repeats trying to comprehend. His eyes dart back and forth on the floor, and he nods his head. “ _Amnesia..._.. I… I see….” The man looks to his feet trying to comprehend for a minute. Finally, he straightens himself then clears his throat, possibly sneakily whipping away a small tear. “Well…. I suppose this may sound very strange to you…. but….. _ah._ ” He then bows his trunk slightly, very formal like. “Well, allow me to introduce myself first... My name is Monsieur Remington Martin Alarie III…” As he stands back up, peering up to her face to see if that caused a reaction or would jog her memory, but she just continues to look blankly at him. “...The… The Chamberlain and Archmagister of His Royal Majesty…. the King of Charlès?” She shrugs slightly as he pauses, the look on his face is so disappointed that she still doesn't seem to have any clue. He lets out a long sigh before he continues. “... Your true name, child, is Rhemielia Mairead Alarie I…..”

“.... How do you know all of this exactly?” Muriel begrudgingly asks, feeling his lover’s heart thudding harder and harder in her chest as she holds onto him tightly. 

The nobleman’s eyes flash with irritation and pain as he glances up to Muriel. “Because I am the one who _gave_ it to her of course.”

Rhemi can’t help but bat her eyes trying to let all this sink in, but then his eyes meet here’s again instantly softening and he utters. “.... I'm your father, Rhemiela.”

_“.... What?”_

##  __

##  _**To be continued…** _


	2. Strangers~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finding out the identity of the stranger named Sir Martin, Rhemi is overjoyed and invites him for tea. But Muriel and Asra are very wary of the man, and with good reason....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [WARNING: The following below contains thing that may not be NSFW or triggering to some viewers, such as: Profanity, heavy detail of blood/gore (if you're squeamish), adult themes, etc.]

_**Strangers~** _

_[Earlier that morning]......_

Vesuvia’s wharf is rather busy today, people have come all over the city to catch a glimpse of this fascinating spectacle at the docks. Young street urchin children climb all of the tops of the nearby buildings so they can look at the strange two fancy foreign vessels that are sailing into port. The first one is huge, with hundreds of men aboard to help dock this beautiful ship, equipped with multiple levels of cabins, cannons, and what seems to be eighty white sails. It’s rather ornate and overly fancy looking for something to be weather by the seas. It’s white and dark blue trim with tons of well-to-do dressed sailors on board with coordinated uniforms. They don’t appear to be like a normal crew, filled with various people, but navy _men_. By the looks of it, pirates wouldn’t dare to attempt to plunder it, especially with the other smaller one sailing with it. It was smaller, still just as beautiful looking, but there were noticeably more canons and military men aboard—A definite warship.

Begrudgingly, the wine-loving Consul Valerius stands awaiting to greet the visitor as the ships make their way into port. Nadia had been expecting them for some time. She’d be there herself today if she didn’t have business to attend to. Parts of the city were still being reconstructed after Lucio and his army destroyed a lot of parts of it. And progress was going along wonderfully, and she liked to see over those matters personally. She said it was her duty to attend to her people more than to entertain a puffed up noble. So, she put Valerius in charge of welcoming the guest, and he would be rather doing anything else but this today.

Rather annoyed that she had to waste most of her morning, the soldier standing directly behind Valerius mutters to the other beside her. “...Sure a lot of hullabaloo for just some magician from another country.”

Another soldier next to her scoffs harshly and whispers back. “I heard he’s equivalent to a court doctor.” Valerius' eye twitches slightly as he can clearly overhear the guards behind him and he takes a long sip of his wine, thinking that they’d hush up.

“—Are you _joking?_ You’re telling me that this bloke on that bloody ship is just a damn magician?? Then why do we have to be here? And in our fanciest uniform at that! This thing itches something fierce!”

“ _Psssh—_ Yeah?! I could be at home warm with my kids next to the fire instead of here freezing my arse off!” A third guard chimes in. “Since when did a king’s magician have to be greeted with a large fan fair—?”

Valerius rolls his eyes groaning as turns his head back towards the guards. “—Since that magician became the head Chamberlain of King Francis VIII nearly two decades ago.” He announces loud enough for all the guard’s attention. Immediately, they all straighten back up at attention, faces red that he heard their bellyaching and he continues. “... That _‘damn magician’_ as one of you put it, is _THE_ right hand man to the Crowned King of Charlès, which unfortunately means that he outranks me. He’d also outranked the Countess if she wasn’t a Princess… This Archmagister represents one of the largest, most advanced, and rather ruthless countries that border the Salty Seas….. Currently Vesuvia is on good terms with them and we want to _keep it_ that way, don’t we??”

“Yes, sir.” Mutters the three guards in unison.

“You all need to understand our arriving guest, despite appearing to be just a magician, is actually a very powerful person. Now, I don’t want to be here as much as you all do, but we must do what we can for this city, am I clear?”

“Yes, sir.” They all repeat.

Valerius takes another swing of his wine, enjoying it as it goes down his throat. “ _Mmmm!..._ Now if you three would just stand there silently, and cease to be an embarrassment to our Countess, I’ll forget that I heard any of you breaking ranks just now.”

“A-apologizes, Sir Consul.” The first soldier mutters. “—Won’t happen again.”

“See that it won’t...” The diplomat sneers, turning his head back to face forwards. “Last thing we need is any issues with this blasted kingdom...” Very rarely does the man feel nervous, especially when greeting other aristocrats, but with this guest he most certainly has him on his toes. There are all kinds of gossip about the Archmagister of Charlès, a powerful magician, that works for the King and his court. Most of the rumors aren’t all too pleasant either. The latest rumor floating around Noble's dinner tables is that the Archmagister has been sent by the aging king to find a way for him to live forever. The treasure he seeks has been called by many names, the elixir of life, philosopher’s stone, fountain of youth. There are bedtime stories of countless fools who have sought the priceless treasure, but none have succeeded. Only children and idiots believe in such nonsense. And they are just rumors…. right?

Slowly but surely the ships are docked, ropes are tied, and the gangway is set in place for the larger one, and a red carpet is rolled out. A high pitched whistle is blown on deck, and all of them fall into formation, the captain at the top of the gangway. The men all have strange rather clunky metal contraptions, some new invention called _‘muskets’._ They all hold them at the ready in their hands awaiting for orders. _“Compagnie, Salut!”_ The captain shouts. All the men bring their muskets down on their rear to their left side and bring their right hand up to their foreheads. Voiceless, nothing heard but the movement of their clothes, the crew very sharp, disciplined, and perfectly in-sync.

A man with dark plum and grey colored hair strolls rather proudly across the deck and the rolled out red carpet. A slightly taller elder male servant tailing close behind him dressed in a dark green, white, and blue outfit of some kind. The Archmagister wore long dark trousers with button up spats, a velvet purple vest, a puffy lavender shirt underneath, and a tied belt at his waist to bring it all together. Charlès was always very fashion forwards, style and presentation was everything, and it shows.

Valerius had to admit, for a prudish man, he at least knew how to make a memorable entrance. He was rather dashing looking too, with his plum hair and strong chin. Yet something about his face made Valerius feel a bit more irritated, like someone else he knew. Slowly sipping wine from his glass, the Archmagister steps onto the dock, peering past the rather large murmuring crowd that had formed at the front of the wharf and into the city. A handful of the palace guards keep the spectators away from getting too close while people cat-called the arm sailors on board.

“ _Ah._ Sir Archmagister Alarie.” Valerius bows politely in front of the foreign nobleman. “I pray your voyage went smoothly.”

Without even giving him a small glance, the plum and gray haired man just sighs and waves his hand dismissively. “Sir Martin will do, _Balerius….”_

“Oh—Yes. Of course, Sir Martin. And it’s actually, _ahh_ …. Valerius… With a _...‘V’...._ you’re Excellently.”

Finally Martin gazes into his eyes for a brief moment then nods his head a little. His mind clearly somewhere else. _“Hmmm?_... _Ah_ , yes, that's right. My apologies.... _Valerius_.” He sneers with a fake grin when he repeats his name, overly announcing the V, then goes back to staring into the distance.

“Yesssss……” Valerius tries to ignore his strange rude behavior and bows slightly pointing his arm towards a nice looking carriage. “ _Ahem_ … Well, if you would follow me, your carriage awaits. The Countess has been expecting you for some now….” Martin just keeps scanning the city very coldly, as if the city itself has deeply wronged him and possibly looking for something. The Consul has felt a bit creeped out but the plumed haired man before, but this cold icy stare makes his blood nearly run cold and he clears his throat and tries to lean into his gaze to attempt to gain his attention again. “.... Sir?”

 _“.... Hmmmm?”_ Martin finally glances back at him with a long exaggerated exhale, but nostrils flared looking at Valerius as if he was an obnoxious chattering baboon.

“The carriage, Sir Martin?...” Valerius says pointing his wineglass to its direction. He does his best not to roll his eyes or to sneer, but his face says it all. _You know—a carriage… The contraption with four gold wheels, two doors… pulled by a couple of horses….? Something you probably have seen a thousand times?_ He snarkily thinks to himself.

“ _Hmmmm_. Yes.... so it is.” Martin prudishly peers over to the carriage and clicks his tongue as he turns his chin over his shoulder. “...Bartholomew.” He calls.

Hasilty, yet very elegantly, the tall servant dressed in dark green and black rushes to his side equipped with his master’s cane, cape, hat, then his gloves in that order from top to bottom, all delivered to him on a red sink pillow. _“Oui, Monsieur?”_

Taking the gloves first, Martin reaches up for his things with his right hand. Valerius’ eyes pans down naturally until something catches his eyes as the man takes the gloves first. Discovering the top of the Archmagister’s right hand was rather pink and red, the skin was tight and shriveled, yet thick, and leathery simultaneously… Then it dawns on him, it’s an old burn, a bad one from the looks of it. Despite its appearance, the injury doesn’t seem to affect his mobility. He does his best not to stare at his wounds, but found it impossible to look away. The scarring is awful to behold, yet somehow it is hard to take your eyes away from it. His head filled with curiosity, wondering how far up his arm the scar goes in his arm, and how he got it in the first place. It’s amazing that there isn’t a rumor about it. “... Be a good lad and go with the Consul to the palace.” Martin instructs the servant while wiggling his fingers into his stiff leather gloves starting with his right. “... And don’t wait up for me.”

 _“Oui, monsieur.... Combien de temps serez-vous?”_ His servant asks in Gallic, the primary language in Charlès.

Martin snorts with a small smug smile and an eyebrow raised, eyes still glued to his gloves as he dons them, making sure they look presentable. “Well, I suppose it depends how much I have to take care of.”

The Archimagister takes the hat and cane next, then Bartholomew takes his cloak and drops it onto his forearm and hands the pillow to a crew member so he could fasten it from behind. _“Dois-je donc attendre le thé, Monsieur?”_

“Yes. No need to waste good tea, right, Bartholomew?”

_“Oui, Monsieur Martin.”_

Confused by this entire exchange, Valerius shakes his head. “.. _.Ummmm.._ What exactly is happening?”

“Well….. _Valerius_.” Martin's cold eyes finally fall onto him and he emphasizes the man’s name again with a toothy sneer. “...It’s been a pleasure, but I have some unfinished business I must attend to... Thank you for your rather _‘warm welcome’_ to your… umm, ‘ _quaint_ ’ little city. But I must bid you farewell, I am sure we’ll see each other soon.”

Martin makes a shooing motion with his hand wanting his greeter to move, and waits for the Consul to step to the side. However, he just shakes his head in confusion. “Y-....You’re not getting into the carriage?... You’re due for tea at the Palace! Your ship has arrived three days late as it is—”

“—I’m sorry…. I thought I made myself abundantly clear that I was leaving.” Martin turns to his servant pretending to look confused. “...Did I not make that clear, Bartholomew?”

 _“Non, Monsieur.”_ His servant replies as a-matter-of-factly, slightly bowing his head.

Valerius squints his eyes for a moment. “Excuse—”

“—Yes…That’s what I thought…” He whips his head back to his begrudged greeter, both hands firmly on the top of his cane. “...Especially when I said, _‘farewell’.”_

“B-but Sir M—”

“—Doesn’t _‘farewell’_ have the same meaning in this pathetic excuse of a city? Or am I mistaken to think that Vesuvians understand basic courtesies for departures?... _Au revoir? Adiós? Hwyl fawr?....So long?.... Pip-pip? Ta-Ta?..... Goodbye??”_

Valerius uncomfortably shifts his feet feeling his face getting hot. “I am perfectly aware of what _‘farewell’_ means, but—”

“—Splendid. Then you should be understanding that also means that you should step out of my way. It is a bloody rickety dock, isn’t it? I’m half surprised this entire wharf hasn’t fallen into the sea by now with how that idiotic Count and that blasted wife of his has run things all these years.”

“But… Sir Martin! I was instructed by the Countess herself to—”

Suddenly, an angry dark bundle of fur suddenly slinks off of the ship, scurrying up Martin’s shoulder, but he’s unfazed as if he expected it. She bares her teeth at the snooty courtier, cutting him off mid sentence as he jumps about a foot in the air with a startled, _“—Eek!”._ The badger just snarls at him with her light blue eyes, staring hard at him for a moment with her mouth and front claws covered in fresh blood. She then settles down on her master’s shoulder a little and starts to aggressively lick her dirty paws clean, still staring him down, growling with viscous intent.

Martin grins giving the badger a sideways glance and pats her on the head. _“Ah,_ Beatrix. I was beginning to wonder where you ran off to.” Calmly with a little wave of a finger, the blood is pulled away from his clothes and his creature's body, cleaning them in seconds. The bright red fluid swirls in a small ball in the air and the badger starts to slightly relax a bit more on his shoulder. Yet still, she snarls her eyes never leaving the courtier. “Do move, Consel….” Martin grumbles with a sneer, but his voice is very calm while keeping the ball of blood in the air. “...I believe you’re in my way.”

Valerius glances between the blood, the badger, and Martin unsure what is happening or why it is exactly and he stumbles over his words feeling a small bead of sweat drip from his temple. “B-But… Countess Nadia—”

Martin’s dark teal eyes seem to suddenly grow darker as they pierce right through Valerius’ skull, making his words die in his throat under his gaze. As the Archmagister leans over, slightly towering over him and his eyebrow furrows frighteningly. “—If the Countess wanted to see me, then she would be here, greeting me herself. She wouldn’t have sent her shivering tacky little braided alcoholic cretin, now would she??... _Now._ I do believe I said...” He dramatically pauses, never breaking his intense eye contact, and waving his pointer finger to the edge of the cup, directing the swirling crimson ball of blood to plop into his half-filled wine glass with a wet plop. “.. _..Move,_ Consul.” The diplomat shrinks into himself, trying to hide the disgust of the blood now is his precious wine, yet still doesn’t step aside. Suddenly, movement from his cup catches his eyes and he swears he sees the bloody blob creeping up the side of the glass with little limbs. Mortified as he discovers that the blob is now staring back at him with an evil grin and ten little beady black eyes; He nervously just stands there frozen, the corners of his mouth frowning deeply. Martin just raises an eyebrow again along with his cane, summoning his magic into the jeweled handle, making it glow brightly and holding it rather threateningly towards Valerius’ throat. “... I will not repeat myself again, _Valerius_.” He murmurs slowly making his voice a bit more gruff and harsh. He may not be the tallest, or the strongest man he has ever encountered, but damn is he intimidating.

Finally, the Consul hesitantly steps aside silently with a small bow and lets the Archmagister pass. Bartholomew places his cape over his shoulders and back and Martin fastens the shiny gold clasp and he half nods to frighten the diplomat. “Good day, Consul…” He says with a small arrogant grin standing straight up again, lowering his cane and using it as a walking stick. As he casually strolls past Valerius, he pulls out a piece of paper in his inner pocket of his purple velvet vest and Beatrix snorts at him, still mensingly staring. As Martin gets farther and farther away, about to enter the city street, Valerius can barely overhear him as he grumbles. “....I told you not to eat those filthy rats, Beatrix. You have better things to eat than vermin.” Adjusting the hat on his head, the badger snarls in response, then makes a small burp. “...Do be on your best behavior, Bea. You might get a tasty fat snake for dinner…”

Valerius just blankly stares as the guest continues to stroll down the wharf. Sailors, dockworkers, palace guards and other urchins just gawked at him as well, chatting amongst themselves with what they just saw. With a large sneer, still staring down the dock, Valerius blindly and unceremoniously tosses the blood filled wine glass into the water, making a small kerplunk as it hits the surface. “... What a charming fellow… A real treat. Just a _pleasant_ experience.” He sarcastically mutters, making a few dockworks chuckle. “Goddamn magicians...” He mutters under his breath, eyes narrowed, deeply saddened by the loss of his wine, then he shutters to himself thinking about the little creature staring at him in his glass.

The Captin’s first mate makes his way down the gangway beside him collecting the red carpet, patting him hard on the shoulder and a shiver violently shoots down his spine. “ _Aye_. Ye should see when he be in a bad mood.” He says with a thick sailor accent then throws his head back lost in laughter then continues down the gangway, rolling up the fancy carpet.

Valerius cringes slightly and quickly brushes off his shoulder with a ‘bleh’, even though the sailor was rather clean. Suddenly, his heart drops into his stomach, realizing that there were no armed guards, soldiers, or anyone else in his entourage accompanying him. A rich high nobleman like him sticks out like a sore thumb, and can prove to be rather dangerous to be alone in the city streets. He whips his body around urgently, waving his hand crazily. “Wait!! Are… Are none of you going to escort him??” He says with such irritation in his tone. The crew just look to each other and continue back to their duties without a single word. The Consul just shakes his head confused, feeling rather disrespected. He glances to Bartholomew, the elder servant to the Archmagister and he just blankly stares back, his hands neatly behind him. Annoyed, the Consul just snickers to himself rolling his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “None of you speak even a lick of Common, do you??”

“Actually…. _Oui_. We all do, Monsieur.” Bartholomew finally answers tilting his head. His accent is rather thick and speaks a little slower, unlike Martin who doesn’t have the faintest hint of, despite being from Charlès as well. “... These men are part of King Francis’ Military. They all must know Common in order to serve His Majesty. Most of us know it back home anyways, in order to trade.”

Dumbfounded, Valerius drops his shoulders a little. “...Then why didn’t any of these idiots answer me?!?!” He growls.

Bartholomew just lets out a little chuckle and smiles slightly cockily. “... They know not to answer foolish questions.”

“Unbelievable.” Valierus cranks his head back to the palace guards that were behind him when the ship was docking. “You there! Follow him. Make sure he’s safe—” The guard about to move, but then Bartholomew interjects.

“— _Noooo—_ I believe you do not understand. That won’t be necessary, Monsieur Consul. My Master prefers to be alone.”

“....And what if your Master gets attacked? You’re King wouldn’t really want his head Chamberlain to be killed in the streets, would he??” The crew and Bartholomew can’t help but laugh at that comment as they continue to unload the nobleman’s cargo. “....What? What is so humorous?”

“Because you’re worried about the wrong person, Monsieur Valerius.” The courtier’s eyes slowly widen realizing what the servant is implying and he quickly darts his eyes in that direction. “Now… Monsieur, if you would be so kind as to show me where we can start loading His Excellency’s personal effects?”

 _“Yes”_ Valerius’ voice cracks awkwardly, then she shakes it off clearing his throat, forcing himself back into his normal facade. “—Yes, yes, this way.”

——————————

The shop is still completely silent, everyone is gobsmacked in one way or another by the bombshell that this stranger just shared.

Rhemi tightens her grasp on Muriel’s forearm shivering. _This man…. He said he’s my….?_

“You’re…. You’re my…. father?” She mutters quietly, eyes swelling.

Now that Muriel and Asra have studied the man’s features, the resemblance is undeniable. The shape of her face, her build, even her hair was similar how it flowed.

The plum-haired man exhales hard and rather heartfelt and he struggles for words. “I…. I haven't seen you since you were a young girl.”

“..... You… you haven’t?”

“ _No!!_ I… I had no idea where you were! For years I—I’ve been searching for you! I was beginning to think I’d never see you again…. When I received your certificate of your death a few months ago… I was dev—” He stops himself from finishing that statement and he shakes his head. Even the way he rants is similar to Rhemi. “I…. I can’t believe you’re here…. actually here… _alive!_!”

Rhemi’s eyes water and slowly pushes down Muriel’s large arms and takes a step closer to Martin. Part of him feels like he shouldn’t let her go, but it would be wrong to not let her do what she wants. Slowly, one step at a time, she approached the stranger. “... My death certificate?....So… Wha—what are you doing here?” She asks shakily with mixed emotions.

“....S-Shortly after I received the letter…. I was informed that you had this property. I came here to claim it, and I planned on selling it…. Collect your belongings if there were any left...”

“.....You're…. You’re really my father?”

“...Ye—Yes I said that alread— _YY!”_

Rhemi leaps into the air, throwing her arms around his neck tightly, cutting him off mid word. Muriel and Asra still are rather uncomfortable with her hugging this stranger, but they wouldn’t dare stop her either. They want to be happy for her, they want her to have a reunion she deserves.

Rhemi lets go of the man’s neck, then gently cups his face, her bold affection and warm kindness seems to shock him. “I…. I couldn’t remember if I had a father. I…. I can’t believe you’re here! In my house! W-Where have you been all this time??”

Mixed with such emotions, slowly, Martin’s eyes start to tear up as well and he returns her embrace and an almost happy smile soon creeps onto his lips and closes his eyes tight, getting lost in the moment. His eyes flutter open after a half a minute. “Wait...— _Phara!_ Where is Phara, child? Is she here??” He loudly whispers, a bit of panic in his voice, gripping her tighter, darting his head back and forth searching the shop.

“W-Who?” She muffles through her tears, not having any clues of who that is.

“....Phara?...” Asra repeats with a head tilt looking at Muriel who is equally confused.

The hermit just shakes his head and shrugs. Rhemi never mentioned a person named Phara before, not even in her dreams. “...Who’s Phara?” He asks folding his arms up tightly.

“...She’s-” Martin mumbles but stops his sentence before the answer comes out and looks back down to Rhemi. “.... Does anyone else live here, child?”

Rhemi sniffles and shakes her head. “N- No. It’s just us. No one else lives here…. Who’s Phara?”

Martin relaxes a bit just staring at his daughter’s face. A deep and somber sigh flows from his lips. “You don’t—?—...S-She’s-.... _Ah_ , nevermind—She doesn’t matter right now.” He takes another look at Rhemi happily gazing at her. _“... My gods_. Look at you, my little Pigeon…. You-.... Well, you’re all grown up. You’re more beautiful than I imagined!” He wraps his arms around her shoulder, hugging her so tightly like you’d expect a father to do, nearly picks her up off her feet, and they stay like that for a while. Suddenly Martin’s eyes fly open, realizing himself and glances between Muriel and Asra. Quickly, he sets her back down, clears his throat, pushes himself away. “Yes… _Um, ah_ —well… That’s, _ah_ —That’s enough of that.” He turns around, shielding himself from everyone else, pulling out a handkerchief from his vest pocket and pretending to cough, but instead of wiping away his tears, choking back the rest of them. The badger makes a little chattery squeal at him a little as she still hides behind the door frame of the reading room, continuing to hiss and growl at Rhemi. “Be quiet, Bea! Don’t be rude.” He grumbles to her, but she continues to growl, fur still raised, teeth showing.

“Sorry.” Rhemi blubbers with a bittersweet expression on her face as she wipes away her tears with her sleeve. Muriel lightly rubbed her back to comfort her, handing her a handkerchief as well but still cautiously glances at the rude noble. “Thanks, love.”

“She’s a hugger.” Asra smiles and looks at her fondly, happy for her in a way. It’s an emotional scene non the less, and you can feel it. “... But you can see that I guess.” He adds.

The man turns back to face her and she cups her own face with both hands still in disbelief, feeling a rant about to start. “I… I’m sorry I don’t remember you.—Holy crap… Wow…. I have a father!—Ohmygod!” She adorably turns around to Asra and Muriel cupping both of her cheeks on her face, tears still in her eyes. “—I have a father, Muri!!! Did you know I had one, Asra??” The two can’t help but smile at her and shake their heads. She’s cute when she rants like that. She spins on one foot back to her father, excitedly. “....I have… _Sooo_ many questions right now! I…. I don’t even know where to begin!”

Her father finally shakes himself back to his senses, turning his attention back to Rhemi, Muriel and Asra, his cold fusaud falls back again. “Well, I suppose I can start with our names. My name is Monsieur Remington Martin Alarie III, but I go by Sir Martin. Remington was my father…. You were named after me and my father before me of course, Rhemielia.”

 _Rhemielia._ The name felt so foreign, yet so oddly familiar to her at the same time.

“You were supposed to be _Remington Martin Alarie the IV,_ however you did come out a female after all…” He slightly sneers when he says that last part.

Asra’s eyebrow twitches slightly and Muriel stifles an angry sputter, both of their brows furrowed. _The fuck did he say to her?_ They both think to themselves.

But Rhemi looks at him blankly. “Was… I _supposed_ to be a boy?” She mumbles, rubbing the back of her head, confused. _I didn’t choose to be born with particular genitalia… I just….came out!_

Her father laughs a short amused bark. “Yes…. well…. Florence did do her best I suppose.” Muriel brow furrows, even though he claims to be Rhemi’s father, he still doesn’t like this man one bit.

“ _Florence?_.... Florence….. Mum... Was that Mum’s name?” Rhemi has a small smile when that name flows from her lips. She never could remember her name, it was good to have once again. But it still felt funny to say it. Like it didn’t exactly feel right on her tongue.

“Yes…You nearly killed her. She wasn’t able to give birth after you, you know—tore up her insides. That’s why you don’t have any proper siblings.”

Rhemi’s smile falls, looks to the floor sadly, feeling a little ashamed. “O-oh….. I… I’m sorry.”

Muriel growls slightly as he continues to stand by her closely. “... Not her fault.”

Martin looks Muriel up and down again. “Yes…. perhaps not intentionally her fault—I’m sorry my, _Ahem_ , tall… man. But I do believe I recognize you… where do I know you from?”

“—Nowhere.” Muriel grumbles as he continues to glare down at him irritatedly, and Rhemi glances between them feeling the obvious tension growing.

She clears her throat and interjects trying to ease it a bit. “Perhaps we all got off on the wrong foot… this is my fiancé, Muriel.” The hermit is still eyeing the teal eyed Chamberlain down, Rhemi gently nudges him in the side, giving him a pointed look.

Muriel takes a deep breath and reluctantly extends his hand, offering to shake his. Martin straightens up and with a raised eyebrow and reaches for his hand. “.. _Muriel_ … is it? That name is… ahhh.... interesting. Rather uncommon…. for a man that is….” Martin smirks as if that statement would insult him, but the hermit doesn’t even bat an eyelash at it. As their hands make contact, Martin grasps Muriel’s large hand very tightly, shaking it overly hard. “Pleasure….. _Muriel_.”

Muriel is completely unimpressed and he tries to hide a sneer and squeezes back, making Martin jolt as his bones crack a little under his natural strong grasp. “ _Hmpf_.”

Martin attempts to stifle a grimace, as he quickly jerks his hand away, and his voice is strained. “Well… aren’t you a strong one.” He wiggles his fingers and shakes his wrist, as Muriel folds his arms still just glaring at him blankly. A short laugh then escapes from the Archmagister’s lungs, looking up at him with a little admiration. “Well I’m sure someone like you has kept my little Pigeon in line.”

Muriel’s eyes widened at his remark, baffled. “ _—‘In… line’_?”

“Yeah, _ahhhh_ ….. How is he supposed to keep her _‘in line’,_ exactly?” Asra chimes in, leaning his left arm on the glass countertop. Rhemi could tell in his tone, he doesn’t like him either. This is not getting much better.

“Yes.” Martin pats Rhemi’s head like a dog and she stiffens, looking uncomfortable and her cheeks start to get flushed, looking embarrassed. “She is…. well, was quite a handful in her youth. Some might say a wee bit of a rebel. She would get herself into a lot of mischief back in the day. But what could you expect? She is part of the _weaker_ sex afterall.” Asra now joins Muriel in the glaring showdown at this man, hating him more every minute as words spew out of his mouth.

Rhemi ducks her head away from his hand with a small uncomfortable cough. “Yes… well, I don’t really remember any of those things. But it doesn’t matter!— Anyways!!! ….. _Saaaay_!! Would you like a hot cup of tea? I have been told I make a pretty good brew.”

Martin’s eyes seem to light up at the offer. “ _Aww_. Why, yes…..that would be refreshing, Rhemielia. Thank you. I haven't had a chance for a good cup of tea since we docked this morning.” She leads him back to the reading table to sit while she makes the tea and he looks all around. “Is this a reading room? I haven’t been in one of these in ages… How… _mmmm_ …. quaint….” He mutters disappearing into the room, out of Muriel and Asra’s view. Arrogance is rather thick in his tone, but seems like he’s attempting to be polite.

Asra and Muriel hang back in the front for a moment, muttering to each other trying to make sense of all of this. “... _Welp_ , I fuckin’ hate him so far…” Asra grumbles.

 _“Yeeeeeeah….”_ Muriel snorts, suppressing his rage. “He’s an jackass—”

“—the _lesser_ sex?!” He looks over to Asra, his anger is in no comparison to theirs. “Did that jerk call Rhemi, the _lesser_ sex?!... Freakin’ no good, sadistic, toxic, gender-fixated, chauvinistic-pig! Did you see how he was patting her on the head like a damn dog?! And how rude he was to her when she approached him? _‘The men are talking’_?—My ass!... Has she suddenly forgotten he was being a creep a moment ago??”

Muriel firmly holds his shoulder, trying to calm him down. “Believe me, I’ve wanted to throw him out the door after just looking at him… but why is Rhemi just— taking all of it??”

Asra takes a deep breath, but looks like he is still pissed off. “I don’t know… maybe because it’s her father?”

Muriel huffs, “... Do you know anything about him?”

“ _No_! Nothing!!.... Rhemi and I have known each other for a decade! I met her shortly after her mother passed away. She never spoke about him at all before she died. She seemed to avoid the topic now that I think about it, so I assumed he was dead or didn’t know him….. She talked about her mother. And knew her Aunt Athena—She took me on as an apprentice alongside Rhemi. But that’s it…” Asra squints a little thinking hard to himself _… I wonder who he’s talking about? This ‘Phara’ person?… Rhemi doesn’t seem to know either._

“I don’t like this…. something about this isn’t right....” Muriel grumbles.

“I know what you mean, Muriel. Something is definitely _off_... Like a big piece of this is missing…” The white-haired magician taps his foot stroking his chin with his pointer finger as he ponders a little bit. He then sighs, and stands on his toes to whisper into his friend’s ear and Muriel leans down to listen. “... Best keep your eyes peeled on this guy.”

“Way ahead of you…” Muriel grumbles back brow furrowed towards this stranger’s shadow in that case from the reading room. _I really don’t want to deal with this shit today.... I just wanted to spend time with Asra and Rhemi tonight._ He thinks to himself, but he’d never want to let Rhemi down. This guy also just might be a possible permanent member of the family. _Oh great…. I’m gonna have an in-law after all…. Swell…._ With that thought Muriel grumbles a bit more himself, not liking the idea at all. It’d be different if he wasn’t a jackass, even worse he’s a goddamn noble, and the kind he hated the most-- the rude and arrogant kind.

Asra points his head towards the reading room. “C’mon.... ‘We wouldn’t want to be rude, _Muriel_.’” He says, imitating Martin’s fancy accent, while mockingly puffing out his chest, pretending to hold a cane, sticking his nose in the air.

Muriel snorts, stifling a laugh. “Oh no.” He replied, doing the same. “Wouldn’t dream of such atrocity.” Asra sputters with how well he can imitate his accent.

Rhemi’s father settles down at the table in the back room, his cape and hat hanging up in the corner. All the while she prepares her finest brew of earl grey cream tea. Perfect for a cold and rainy day such as today. She also makes enough for Muriel and Asra and then some, and they shuffle into the back reading table too. The two of them just burn a hole through Martin’s face when Rhemi wasn't looking. But her father didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. _Must be used to getting dirty looks._ Muriel thinks to himself.

“Anyone care for cream or sugar?” Rhemi happily asks everyone. “I also have some honey as well.”

“I’ll take a little sugar, please.” Asra suddenly replies cheerily, he can’t help it. He just loves her tea, it’s one of his weaknesses.

Muriel grins tentatively at her and shakes his head. He normally likes it plain, sometimes if he’s feeling a bit daring, he’ll add a little cream or honey to soothe his throat if he’s under the weather, but never cared for sugar cubes. Too sweet.

“Three lumps of sugar and a splash of cream, please, Pigeon.” Martin smiles as she makes it the way he likes it. He sips it and melts a little in his chair and his badger crawls under the table cautiously sniffing at everyone’s feet. “Behave yourself, Beatrix… We are _guests_ now.”

Asra looks down at the table as the badger sniffs his leg, she instantly hisses at him, rearing up defensively, and he clutches to a frightened Faust shaking in his vest. “Shhhh… It’s alright Faust.” He whispers to her.

 _“Make angry foe leave...”_ Faust mumbles while she continues to tremble.

“I already told you, Beatrix. You _can not_ eat the snake.” Martin mutters without opening his eyes or placing down his tea cup, and Beatrix growls frustratedly. He can apparently understand her as he continues to converse one-sidedly with her. “... Yes, I am aware you are hungry, but you can’t eat another familiar, that’s just distasteful…” Martin smirks slightly as his teal gaze meets Asra’s. “....Unless they _deserve_ to be eaten that is…” he mutters. Asra fakely smiles back irritatedly trying his best to be the polite one.

Faust sticks her head out a little, hissing lowly and irritatedly. _“Rude jerk!!”_ And Asra hasilty sticks her head back in to protect her.

Feeling the palpable tension, Rhemi attempts to continue to break it down. “So… are you a fellow magician… _ahh_ , Father... _uhh_ … Papa?” She then awkwardly fake laughs. “.... I ahhh… I don’t really know what to call you….” She finally admits, sheepishly scratching the back of her head. This is just so strange.

“It’s quite fine… You used to call me _Papa_ when you were young, but just ‘ _Père_ ’ or Father will suffice now that you're older.” He takes another swig of his tea trying his best to not melt into his cup before continuing. “ _Mmmmm_ —Delicious tea, Pigeon... To answer your question— _Yes_. We come from a long line of strong magicians, all male… well…. til you of course.” Muriel grumbles a little furrowing his brow, but Rhemi just hangs onto every word. “....That magnificent beast sniffing your feet is Beatrix, my familiar. She can be a temperamental badger, so do mind her claws. They’re terribly sharp.”

Rhemi squats down to the floor looking underneath the table and smiles at the snarling creature. “Hello, Beatrix.” The badger whips her head up, growling and gnashing her teeth—that is until Rhemi offers her some honey from a spoon from the table. Her little beady blue eyes widen and she sniffs heavily intrigued. Rhemi never was very good with animals other than Faust before she met Muriel. Luckily his way with animals seemed to have rubbed off on her. Watchfully, the badger takes a few steps closer, her whiskers and nose wiggling crazy, mouth dripping with saliva. Her beady little eyes darting back and forth to the spoon, back to Rhemi, making sure she doesn’t make any sneaky moves. As soon as she’s in reach, she snatches the spoon out of Rhemi’s hand and runs back to her master’s feet. Aggressively chowing down on the indulgently sweet honey, smacking and licking her jaws joyfully. After she licks it clean, she cranks her neck back to Rhemi and looks up, obviously wanting more. “ _Awww~_ You really are hungry, _huh_? You poor little thing.” Rhemi says with a kind laugh, then stands to her feet.

Beatrix sniffs the air silently, finally ceasing her hissing and growling as Rhemi turns back to the kitchenette. Rhemi fetches three large whole raw eggs, a handful of fat blueberries, a few fresh strawberries, and two little cubes of raw stew meat from the pantry and puts them all into a small ceramic bowl, along with one filled with water. Beatrix’s blue eyes sparkle with excitement as Rhemi places the bowls down on the floor next to her chair. The badger however keeps her eyes on the apprentice until she gets herself seated at her chair, still not fully trusting her. Finally, she viciously digs in, feasting on the little lunch. Faust shivers a bit more hearing the badger crunching and slurping the eggs, and Asra keeps patting her comfortingly through his shirt. As soon as the badger is done, she thoroughly licks her face and paws clean and then grumpily proceeds to curl up by the Rhemi’s feet comfortably with her full belly and starts to snoozes away. She seems to have taken a liking to her… Maybe?? It's hard to tell with her strange grumpiness… “Did you have Beatrix when I was a young?” Rhemi asks her father, stirring her tea and making it the way she likes.

“Yes, she’s been around since Gertrude, my other familiar. He passed away when you were rather young… I believe you were around four or five?... _Anyways_ , she’s been around for quite some time now….” Martin glances back down seeing that she has gotten rather cozy with his daughter’s feet. “... _Huhhh_ … _Odd_ , she never took a liking to you before… Or anyone other than me for that matter.” He replies as he spreads strawberry jam on a biscuit. After another sip of his tea, continues. “I suppose I can guess by all of these…. _things_ in this shop and the ball of fire you summoned that you’ve become a magic user as well. I am correct, Rhemielia?” He doesn’t seem very pleased as he asks that, neither does he look very happy to receive the obvious answer.

“Yes. I am I guess...” She scratches her nose a little, eyes fixed at her tea cup. “But… I’m really nothing special…”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Rhemi! You’re a fantastic magician.” Asra laughs a little, Rhemi always wasn’t the kind to boast about herself, at least not since she came back to life—that’s why he does it for her. A faint shade of pink spreads across her cheeks and she grins a little, feeling very flattered. “You're amazing.”

“She’s one of the strongest I’ve ever met…. And the bravest.” Muriel grins, beaming at her lovingly, giving her a quick wink and she smiles back at him widely and sheepishly, secretly playing footsies with him under the table.

Martin placed his cup down with a soft clank, and Rhemi is brought back to reality. “ _Yes_ … Well, I’ve always known that men are magicians. Women who work with magic are just _witches_ … I did do my best to ensure that you would find a better path than a witch’s one...”

Muriel and Asra’s grins quickly deflate at her father’s rather shrewd comment. Muriel stares at him irritatedly with a scowl. “—If Rhemi is a witch, she'd be the best one I’ve ever seen. Better than any _‘magician’_ I’ve ever met anyway.” Muriel sneers slightly at him.

A bead of sweat forms on Rhemi’s brow at this convention. Witches do exist, and they are many talented and powerful ones out there; usually they are distinctly associated with covens and not all of them are female. But in the past few centuries, that word had become correlated with common terrible misconceptions and unforgiving stereotypes. Witches are thought to be evil, working only with the dark arts and even the devil in some places—but it’s not true in most cases. Of course—There are evil witches that exist in the world. But there are also plenty of awful sorcerers, mages, wizards, and magicians out there too. The words witch, now used more as a hurtful derogatory word, so it’s very frowned upon when people call other magicians witches, especially when using it so negatively. It was fine in a joking way. Like when her friends called her one, but they never meant it badly.

Offended, Asra drops his tea cup to his ceramic saucer with a firm clank, smiling fakely to Martin lazily leaning his chin into his hand, propped up by his elbow. “What my friend means is, perhaps where you’re from, that’s acceptable…. But here in Vesuvia, we have plenty of fine magicians that identify as _‘female’._ Very talented and respected ones too.” A very visible vein pops up from Asra's forehead as he concludes his sentence; this is probably the most intense tea time ever on this table.

“—Speaking of _which_ ,” Rhemi interjects with a large nervous smile, placing her head in between the two with a bead of sweat on her temple, trying to turn the conversation back around. “ _Ha-ha_ , no pun intended—” Muriel huffs, giving her a blank pointed look, Asra just sighs, fighting a smile. Martin surprisingly gives her a little chuckle as utters that terrible joke. _Yep these two are related…_ Sure, it was corny pun, but at least it seems to lighten the mood again. “...Where exactly are you—well, ah, I guess, we from?”

Martin stirs his tea with his spoon. “The capital of Charlès… It’s Northeast, across the Salty Sea through the Clouden Mountains. Like I mentioned before, I’m the Archmagister and Chamberlain to the King. I started out as an apprentice to the old Archmagister when I was about nineteen then I took his place when he passed away when I was twenty-five. I worked for the palace and His Majesty's court…. That’s how I met your mother actually.” He says that last part with a small reminiscent smile.

 _“Really?”_ That makes sense about his fancy strange clothes. Rhemi becomes truly excited once she hears about her mother. “She was at the palace?”

“Yes, it sounds more lashish than it really was. She was a lady-in-waiting to the eldest princess, Florence’s father was a rather wealthy merchant, hence how she got into the palace. The princess trusted her with her life, choosing her over all the noble women in court.” He smiles a little looking fondly for a moment. “It was quite the scandal, her and I. It wasn’t very practical for the Archmagister such as myself to marry a lower class woman.” An almost somber look takes over his face as he stares into his tea cup, making him look rather relatable. “....But I couldn’t help it…. I fell for her. I knew when I first laid eyes on her I wanted her to be _mine_..... She was like an elegant dove when she walked by. She always could light up a dark room.” Rhemi smiles up at him and he smiles a little back with a sort of softness to his face as he gazes at his child’s features. “You look just like her… _I mean_ … you have a lot of the _Alarie_ side in you too—You have my father’s redish brown hair, but your mother’s aura was almost the same as yours. It's like a hearth.” Rhemi and him exchange a somewhat tender glance. Then he clears coughs a little straightening up, icy exterior coming back to full force. “—Well that, and unfortunately you get those burgundy Travelish eyes somewhere from your mother’s side of course… She never told me she was Travelish. I discovered that a few months after you were born.”

The joyful smile on Rhemi’s lips falls once again and she feels a pit in her stomach as he mentions her eyes. “ _Oh_ … I, _ah_ , I see…” She sadly mutters, looking down to the floor boards, twisting her napkin in her lap. Back in the south, Shona, one of Muriel’s second cousins said that was a very distinctive trait. And some people in the past have found them a little spooky. She even remembered some people when she was younger saying that they are a bad omen; Worse than a broken mirror or a black cat passing by. It didn’t help that she also had rather large eyes too, no way of hiding them. There were plenty of red eyes out there. The Countess Nadia for instance also had red eyes, but they were more like two bright brilliant rubies that made her look intriguing and beautiful. Rhemi’s eyes are more like a tainted hazel-brown, like when old dried blood stains the ground.

Seeing her reactions, Muriel’s left brow twitches, eyes narrowing as he stares Martin down with that comment. Unconsciously, he bends the silver spoon he’s holding backwards with just his thumb, patients wearing thinner and thinner by the minute. The hermit didn’t like it when anyone said anything negative about Rhemi. Negativity towards her eyes were especially triggering; they were beautiful and unique to him, they reminded him of hot embers in a fire, he loved them. Knowing that she’s a bit sensitive about them, he’s even more protective of her, and he’s starting to have a clue where part of her self consciousness comes from.

Noticing his friend's anger, Asra softly nudges Muriel’s side, startling him a bit. Snapping out of his glaring for a moment, realizing the now deformed spoon in his hand, he skillfully hides it into his long sleeve shirt before Rhemi notices, faint pink on his cheeks.

Martin clears his throat again, gazing back into his hot liquid, his tone softening again. “I… _ah_ , I suppose since we speak of Florence in the past tense... She’s-...... She’s no longer with us, is she?” He asks, melancholy heavy in his voice.

Rhemi exhales slowly, nodding her head slowly. “...Mum passed away when I was a teenager…”

“I… I see….” He nods pressing his lips tightly together, lost in thought. A few different emotions flow behind his eyes, despair being the most prominent. But it also seems like he already had a feeling that she was gone somehow. Why else would he have received Rhemi’s death certificate? Rhemi sweetly pats her father’s right gloved hand that rested on the table, comforting him. Shocked at her affection once again, he looks at her hand perplexed, but doesn’t appear to mind it. “I’m sorry… I don’t remember how… or exactly when...”

He sets down his tea cup in his other hand to the saucer, swallowing the lump in his throat. “It’s…. It’s fine, my Pigeon.” He replies, tenderly patting the top of her hand with his left. “Seems you can’t really help that part.” Martin seems to be the sort of man to show much affection, yet when his daughter gives it, he doesn’t dare deny it. Seeing this exchange is like watching snow melting from a warm ray of sunlight. Muriel notices the man genuinely crack a melancholic smile. Deep down, he must have craved this very simple human gesture of kindness, he even seems like he doesn’t want to let her go.

Finally, he stifles these mournful feelings and pulls his hands away, clearing his throat, and proceeds with business. “Now… I hate to change the subject unexpectedly. But this reminds me of the most important question I would like to know.” Reaching back into his vest, he pulls out two pieces of paper and an tattered looking envelope and flattens it on the table for her to read. It’s Rhemi’s certificate of death from five years ago and a short letter that went with it.

Baffled, Rhemi quickly reads them, but nothing still comes to mind. Nothing but a twinge of a headache behind her temples. “Oh…. _Ahhh_ … yeah…. that…. _hmmmm_.” She fumbles, trying to grasp some kind of explanation.

“Once I realized that it was you under your shaw, I thought perhaps it was a mistake. But now that I see this again… how can that be? It even had a note signed by you. And it says here that you were even cremated and buried in a place named, _the Lazaret?_...”

Conflicted, Rhemi glances over Asra and Muriel for a moment searching whether or not to explain things to him. Muriel doesn’t give an answer, he just huffs. She already knows he doesn’t want to tell him. But Asra just looks warily at her, then shrugs as if to say, ‘ _why not?’_. And really, there wasn’t any better way to explain things.

“Well… _Umm_ … Père... Five years ago… I kinda did… _ahhhh_.. d-died.” She awkwardly twirls a piece of her wavy, curly hair.

Blinking slowly, Martin stares at her unamused. “This is hardly a time for another joke, Pigeon.” He says plainly while taking another sip of his tea.

A bit of awkward silence takes over the table for a few seconds before surprisingly Muriel is the one who breaks it. “...She’s completely serious.” The three of them all blankly stare at her father as he stops sipping his eyes flutter slowly realizing their stone cold face. “...She was dead for ‘bout a year.”

He nearly chokes on his tea as he splutters for a moment, hastily patting his mouth with his napkin before he speaks again. “—What?? But that’s….. _impossible_!!” Panic then takes over his face and he starts to breathe a bit heavy again, not taking this well.

After the initially expected histeria and shock of his daughter dying, and a bit of hard liquor added in his tea. Rhemi starts the unpleasant task of explaining her death and how she came back to life in the most summarizing way possible. By the end of it, Martin just stares at Rhemi, Asra, and Muriel in complete disbelief, mouth gaped open, completely lost for words. He tries a few times to form a comprehensive word, but fails to do so for about another three minutes. Having a knowing look, she picks up the bottle of whiskey and he nods hard. He doesn’t stop her until the cup is nearly full and he downs it all like a champ and only a slight bit of a grimace at the end of his swallow. Blindly, she hands it to Muriel who also adds it to his tea, and a little bit of her’s and Asra’s. They all need it after today.

Martin cheeks puff up as he slowly forces air through his lips, still struggling with information, clasping his hands together, leaning back into his chair. Finally he utters something that could be understood. “The…. Arcana…” The three nod together and he leans back forward in estonistment. “.... You’ve—you’ve entered their realm?? I thought you had to make a trade or some kind. Strike a deal—How exactly—?”

“—It’s a very, very, long story. Sir Martin.” Asra shrugs, not necessarily carrying to explain everything to him, still not completely trusting the man. “... Not one where we can exactly elaborate over evening tea.” He looks at him from the corner of his eye as he takes a drink from his cup, clearly not taking any more questions.

“Is that so..…” Martin realizes he’s wasn’t going to get straight answers out of him. Then he stifles a yawn with his hand as he pushes out his chair to stand. The coo-coo clock on the wall chimes. It’s already five o’clock now, the sun will be going down soon. He must have traveled a while to get here. “Well, Pigeon, thank you very much for the wonderful tea. But it is getting rather late and there is much to digest.”

“ _Oh_ —I guess it is...” Rhemi stands up as well, not having all of her questions answered yet. “But you can stay longer if you’d like, you’re not imposing at all.”

“...Speak for yourself….” Asra lazily leans over whispering to Muriel and they both hide a sneaky little chuckle.

Martin slicks back his plum hair with a long sigh. “I appreciate the thought, Rhemielia. But to be honest I am rather depleted at this moment. I think we should continue this tomorrow—Come along, Beatrix.” The badger quickly scurries out from under the table, crawls up his leg and drapes across his shoulders like a dead fur. He doesn’t even seem bothered by her sharp claws at all, neither do they damage them either. _They must be enchanted._ Rhemi ponders… _. Neat!!_

Muriel and Asra also stand to their feet and push in their chairs. The two are kind enough to take care of the tea cups, saucers, and other dishes as Rhemi escorts her father to the door, helping him with his hat and cloak. “Are you sure I can’t offer you to stay here tonight? My room isn’t much, but the bed is very comfortable.” She looks up at him sadly with her large red eyes.

Martin pats her head a little and she tries her best not to cringe. She doesn’t care for having her head pat like she’s a dog, but didn’t want to say anything. “Thank you, my Pigeon. But I do have other arrangements at the Palace. But I promise, I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Rhemi smiles as he says that. “Actually, I’m supposed to have tea at the palace tomorrow with Portia and Julain in the afternoon, they were the people that came in the door with me. Oooo! How about I meet you there in the morning? Maybe show you around the city! Take you to all my favorite spots!”

“That might be—” Martin raises an eyebrow perplexed. “You mean… you know the Countess?... _Personally??”_

“Nadia? Of course! All my friends do—” She opens her mouth to tell him about Luico and how her friends helped save the world from utter destruction. But seeing the bags under his eyes, she realizes that it might not be the time and decides against it. “... But _ahhhh_ …. I suppose that’s a story for another day…”

“Perhaps so.” He snorts at her enthusiasm.

“ _Soooo_ …. tomorrow morning? Nine o’clock sharp? At the palace gates?”

He seems to think it over some. “ _Hmmmm_ … Well… I suppose I can push my diplomatic business I have to do at a later time. Seeing my only daughter is more important to me than all of that.”

Rhemi’s eyes gleam, not wanting him to go quite yet, she wants to know so many things, there are still so many unanswered questions swirling around in her head. She clasps her hands together to her chest and wiggles around a bit, hoping to get more out of him. “...Could I at least walk you back to the Palace? I hate for you to go alone.” By this time of night, thugs and robbers might be waiting in the shadows if you aren’t careful. And she knows the city streets better than him.

“—No, no, no. That’s improper of a woman. A gentleman should escort you, not the other way around… And I know how to get there from here.” Rhemi pulls her lips into her mouth to stifle a giggle and shrugs. He opens the front door of the shop revealing the heavy and cold spring rain still pouring down and a few flashes of far off silent lightning, the sound of the water drops hitting the cobblestone street is nearly deafening. Just as Martin turns back around and before he can even utter a word to say good night, Rhemi throws her arms around him. Embracing him with another tight hug, taking him by surprise yet again nearly knocking the wind out of him. Martin hands hover over her shoulders, apparently not used to all this spontaneous affection. He definitely is not the cuddly type like she is, but he then slowly hugs her back, placing his arms over her shoulders, resting his chin on the top of her head. Now that no one is watching, he takes in this moment, embracing his only child tightly, his chest feeling lighter. “I…. I am very happy you are alive, Rhemielia. I believed you were gone forever...”

“Well, we're here together now.” She mutters softly.

“So we are.....” He exhales through his nose a little. “We have so much to talk about…. A lot of catching up to do.”

“Yes we do.” She smiles into his vest and pets her hair. Somehow this feels right. As if hidden away in the back of her subconscious, she missed this feeling.

Before the father and daughter separate, Rhemi stands on her tiptoes and places a kiss on his cheek. As she pulls away, he cups her cheek with his right hand, smiling at her with such a bittersweet expression. Finally, he steps out the door, using his magic to make a sort of invisible umbrella shielding him and Beatrix from the cool droplets. He takes a few steps to the street, then stops and turns to look at her one more time, to make sure it wasn’t all a dream. “...Good night, Rhemielia. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She tilts her head a bit. “Nine o’clock?”

He gives her a toothy smile. “ _Yes_. Nine o’clock sharp…. Good night, my little Pigeon.”

Rhemi smiles so warmly and sweetly. “Good night…. _Père_.” She watches him until he disappears into the night, and she draws in a big breath of cold fresh air, butterflies in her stomach _. I still have a father..._ She thinks to herself. A large smile spreads across her face as she closes the door. ... _.I still have a family of my own..._

——————(Blood warning)---------

Martin keeps a good steady pace, the adrenaline from today still coursing through his veins. After all these years, his only child is still alive, and he’s very overjoyed to discover that she is. But then the overwhelming thought of his daughter has been living like a peasant all this time just makes him so deeply angry. _She even dresses like that Throthian cunt did…._ Martin thinks to himself gripping the jeweled top of his cane so hard the leather gloves squeak. _What ever happened to that witch?…Rhemi hasn’t a clue, so she must be gone... My Florence must be dead because of her… Rhemi must have died because of her too._

 _“Little Pigeon coming back on boat, Master?”_ Beatrix silently asks Martin with a faint growl sniffing the cool night air. Her voice is exactly what you’d think it’s be, rough, raspy, and grouchy sounding.

He enters a covered alleyway to get out of the cold rain, dropping the invisible umbrella, relaxing his other arm. “One thing at a time, Bea…” He answers out loud very calmly, yet determinedly. “First, we must convince Rhemielia that she doesn’t belong here. She didn’t even recognize my face, I’m practically a stranger to her now… So, we must play this game very carefully….” Martin can hear a cat hiss and dash out of the alleyway behind him. A few pairs of feet scuttling behind him. He knows he’s being followed, but he doesn’t bat an eyelash and he continues to explain to his familiar. “...Once I become close to her again, she will remember the life she once had. She will see that she is better than that little grubby shop of her’s and her rightful place is back in the court in Charlès with us…. Perhaps she’ll find a decent Lord for a husband. Perhaps even a Count…. One that doesn’t mind her eyes.”

 _“.... But….. What if Pigeon wants to stay?”_ Beatrix asks before she can think.

Martin stops in his tracks, his cold teal eyes glaring at the badger so cold and angrily. She shrinks into herself, regretting that question, making little faint whimpering noises under her breath. His nose wrinkles with disgust at the idea of his child having the audacity to stay here any longer, especially now after reuniting with him. “.... My daughter is getting on that vessel with us one way or another. Even if I have to drag her on there.” Starting his confident stride once more, with his nostrils flared Martin proceeds to make his way down the covered alleyway, shoving the heel of his cane firmly into the cobblestone street making a loud, wooden _CLANK_. “...Mark my words, Beatrix. I am never going to let go of _my_ little Pigeon ever again...”

Out of the shadows Martin sees a pair of dark silhouettes still tailing behind him, two thieves attempting to hide in the shadows with sharp knives at the ready. “Stay low, Bea.” He mutters to his familiar, continuing to walk normally and she proceeds to play dead, laying completely limp across his shoulders.

Suddenly, a shady looking man steps out from a pillar in front of Martin, blocking his path and forcing him to stop once more. “Good evenin’ for a stroll, _eh_ , mate?”

Martin raises his eyebrow at the thief as he takes out a sharp and jagged knife from his belt and watches as he twirls it around cockily. To no surprise, a second thief comes from behind, clutching his cape, and sticking the dagger in his back. “ _Oi_ —Gimme all ya got, and we just might let ya live.”

The third and final member of this small gang emerges from the shadows to Martin’s right side with a knife in their hand too. “That’s a nice hat, fella… Ain’t that a nice hat, boss?? _Hehe_.”

The first one standing in front of the Archmagister laughs maliciously eyeing the accessory with fondness, he’s clearly the ring leader. “OO-HO! So it is!! Very nice. _Very_ nice.” He says as plucking Martin’s fancy hat from his head and places it on his, with a broken toothed smile. Beatrix hisses quietly, trying her best to stay still. “…. Looks just my size, don’t it?—”

Unafraid, Martin grumbles a heavily annoyed sigh, his top lip crimping up into a sneer. “Filthy vermin… You’ve ruined my new hat with your greasy hair.” Calmly glancing around in his peripheral, noting where exactly all the deviants are. As he watches the first thug boastingly adjusting the hat on his head, thinking he scored big time with his guy waltzing into an obvious trap. Martin then raises an eyebrow and chuckles to himself with an evil smirk. “... I suppose I did need to blow off some steam before getting back to the palace… _Eh_ , Beatrix?” He mutters as he lifts up his cane summoning his magic and the spherical amber colored jewel on top lights up brilliantly.

The third thief behind him hisses. “What’s tha, ya said ‘bout the boss, ya rich focka—?” Without warning, Beatrix comes to life once again, with a loud and ferocious growl, she attacks the thief sticking the knife into her Master’s back. Shocked, the other two thieves jump about a foot backwards in the air as she digs her sharp teeth into his left wrist, where he was holding his knife, and the thief cries out in severe pain. He turns in circles swinging the badger around and he shouts, “GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!!! GET THIS FOCKIN’ BEAST OFF A ME!!!!” Trying to shake the creature off of him, her grip forcing him to drop his knife, as she bites his tendon below his thumb, making it useless. The more he shakes her, the deeper she sinks her teeth and claws into his skin.

“—THE FUCK?!? That’s damn things alive???” The second thief screams and he jumps back eyes glued to his cohort, being taken completely off guard. “CHEEKY BASTARD!”

Now free, Martin makes his next move. A dark illuminating blue rope suddenly appears and hasilty wraps around the second thief’s neck, tying itself into a noose from behind his head. Barely looking at the man, Martin loops the rope around the archway nearby with his magic. Terrified, the thief starts to realize what is happening and shutters. “WHAA?—AH, SHIT!!!—— _GAAAAHHH_!!!!” With the other end of the rope, Martin tugs hard as the noose, choking the man and his feet dangle high in the air and his knife falls clumsily to the ground as his fingers desperately clutch to his neck trying so hard to free himself.

Finally, Beatrix lets go of the third thief’s wrist and scurries off to safety under her Master’s feet, stance wide, fur raised, ready to kill if she has to. The thief clutches his wrist in pain, completely gobsmacked by what is happening, now watching in disbelief his cohort’s feet dangle in the air. Snapping out of his stupor, he desperately tries to help the second thief from being strangled in the archway, holding onto his legs and lifting him up to breath, his hand still oozing blood. All of this happening in just a few seconds. “HE’S A FUCKING MAGICAN, BOSS! QUICK! KILL ’EM!!!”

“What the FUCK?!—!” The first thief charges the Archmagister. Collectively, Rhemi’s father lifts his left hand to chest height and a loud ripping noise takes the thief by surprise and he glances down. In one short movement, Martin lunches a step closer, using his cane in the right hand to push away the thief’s weapon. Four sharp long claws like small deadly daggers drive into the man’s bottoms jaw and pierce up into the top of his skull, ripping the magician’s left leather glove, and the fancy hat on the thief's head falls away, completely mangled. For a moment, the magician watches the man’s shocked face, studying his stunned quivering dying lips as they try to form words, his eyes are so wide, like he wants to shout. But it’s useless. With an amused snort, Martin hastily retracts the claws back into his hand, the stunned thief gurgling out blood from his jaw and neck as he slowly drops to his knees, bloody covering his brown jacket. Martin just pushes the man’s chest with his cane and he finally falls over, twitching and slightly moaning on the cobblestone, bleeding out rather fast.

A sharp flick of his hand, Martin shakes off some of the fresh blood, his fingers still with razor sharp black claws as he turns his attention to the last thief standing. “Oh my fuckin’ gods….” The third thief’s eyes wide as he sees his boss dead on the ground.

The second thief screaming at him, his voice strained. “DON’T YOU LEAVE ME!!! DON’T YOU DARE!”

“—Sorry, mate!” Panic overcoming him, lets go of the legs of the second thief, bolting down the alleyway. “EVERY MAN FOR ‘IMSELF!!!” The claws in Martin’s left hand disappear, morphing back into fingernail and he laughs seeing the man as he runs away, tossing his can to his left hand in mid air. A dark purple mixed with neon green whip appears in his right hand with sharp spike-looking objects at the end of it. Martin snaps it effortlessly towards the third thief, still barreling down the alley. As the whip makes contact, the sharp spikes tear into his flesh off of his left calf, exposing the muscle and other fibers and he stumbles to the ground, screaming in pain, clutching his leg, rocking back and forth, tears pouring from his eyes. “YOU STUPID FACKA!!! GODDAMN IT!!!”

Martin stands there, heart rate barely elevated as the whip disappears and he stands straight up again. Now feeling safe, the badger climbs back up his shoulders and curls around his neck, her head still lifted. “See, Beatrix?” He says pointing with his open palm over the bloody alley way. “... This place is just crawling with filthy beggars and cut throats. No place for _my_ little Pigeon.” The Archmagister snarls as he prudishly brushes off his vest from the dust. He then lifts his pointer finger on his right hand with his magic just like he did on the docks this morning, and he pulls the fresh blood off of himself and his familiar, collecting into a swirling red ball floating in the air as he walks past the hanging thief.

The poor thief is inches from death and Martin just stands there, cleaning off his fancy clothing. Beatrix grunts at the poor hanging thief as he mouths, “Pl-eeease… M-Mist—er!”

But Martin just continues to stand there annoyed, uncaring throwing the ball of blood to the ground. “You tried to rob the wrong rich fucker... didn’t you?” As his eyes meet his again, the Archmagister smiles maliciously. The man’s feet aimlessly flail and kick around as he chokes and gurgles, swinging around in small circles, struggling to keep his neck off of the magical rope with his fingers. Unfortunately in another second, they go very still, his arms dropping to his side, eyes and face bloodshot with all the broken blood vessels in his face, his body slightly twirling around in circles.

“That’s two down…” The nobleman’s attention is glued to the last survivor as he attempts sneakily to crawl away out of the alleyway. “ _Ah_.... And now for _you_ …” The third thief whips his head back around watching the magician standing there, picking up his cane once again.

“Please!!—NO! Please!!! Let me go!!! I-I-I—I have a family!” The last thief pleads, still crawling slowly backwards in the ground pushing with his right hand and leg. He’s terrified. Blood still oozed from his left wrist and half mangled leg.

Martin stares down at him, his cold teal eyes piercing right through the thief's skull as he contemplates his next move. “I’ll be doing them a favor then...” He opens his mouth, murmuring a terrible and dark sounding incantation. His cold teal eyes momentarily turn almost black as the shadows of the dark alleyway start to shift and move. Soon, they start to sprout legs, snouts, dark red eyes, and sharp hungry looking teeth. A dozen or so very large creepy wild dogs or hyena looking creatures made from shadows and the other thieves' blood start to growl and bark and snarl. Salivating at the sight of the bloody poor man on the ground, patiently awaiting the command as Martin lifts his hand ready to snap his fingers.

The thief starts to tremble, his head cranking all around as he sees these shadowy dog-like beasts surround him, waiting to tear him apart and he starts to hyperventilate. “No… Noo…. Pl—Please sir!—H—Have—M-M-Mercy!”

Martin blinks slowly, no warmth or grace behind his pitch black irises as he leans down sadicially over the shivering man. The black lifeless eyes are just terrifying to look into as he desperately searches for a human behind them, and he sobs, trembling violently whispering pleads. Martin snorts, as if he might let him go, and he tilts his head slightly, and the thief cracks a nervous looking smile. “... Only the _weak_ show mercy… And I am not weak.”

_SNNNNAP—_

“NOOOO!!!” The thief screams just as a loud crack of thunder muffles his cries, lightning distorting this vision as the shadows creatures pile all around and on top of him and he covers his face with his arms. Martin watches as his dark creatures tear the thief apart, eating him alive, and pulls out his pocket watch. As soon as it's quiet again, other than the shadow monsters crunching the man’s flesh and bones. The Archmagister’s eyes sluggishly return back to his icy cold teal, and he waves his hands, making the shadows creatures vanish back into the darkness and leaving a bloody mess all over the alleyway. Bone, muscles, and internal organs spatter about, pieces of meat that was just a minute ago a part of a human being. And now left behind, the poor thief is nothing but food for the rodents and street animals to feast on.

Without another thought, Martin whips back around, and strolls down the alley again adjusting his cravat in his neck, and mending the ripped leather glove seamlessly with his magic. As he turns the corner, he snaps his fingers once again and the hanging corpse drops unceremoniously to the cobblestone ground with a hard, yet squishy sounding _THUD_ and the rope disappears. The sound of the Archmagister’s cane striking the cobble street returns.

“....Nothing is going to get in my way.”

##  _**✨To be continued...** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am soooo sorry that this took longer than I expected. I was having a bit of a hard time letting this one go. So far it’s one of my favorite chapters, it establishes Martin’s personality rather well, and writing about a stuck-up dick is a lot of fun. Anyways! I hope all you trash pandas like this chapter! it’s a long one, sorry! 
> 
> Thanks for reading my hot garbage!
> 
> **Also if you enjoyed this, please leave a comment, I would appreciate it.... I need validation.... UwU


	3. The Fool~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Martin leaves, Muriel and Rhemi talk about their feeling for him. 
> 
> Rhemi also dreams about the dying phoenix once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [WARNING: NSFW, adult themes, & sexual topics-- Thank you have a nice day.]

_**The Fool~** _

A strange fluttering feeling sweeps into Rhemi’s chest as she watches father, Martin, and his familiar resting on his shoulders disappear into the cold rainy night. She couldn’t quite put her finger on the emotion she was feeling, whether it was a good or bad one, either way, it was rather overwhelming. Sluggishly, she closes the front door to the shop, she shuts her eyes and places her back against the wooden door. She groans as her hands rub her forehead and temples for a moment, a headache growing for some reason. Usually this particular pain only comes when she has a new memory. Yet the only thing that is coming to mind is the stinging pain in her temples and her heart palpating in her chest.

Just as he finishes up cleaning all the dishes in the back room, Muriel makes his way over to the front to see how his soon-to-be wife is handling all of this. Quickly he takes notice of her rubbing her head and worn-out expression, he leans down and pushes her hair out of her face. She opens her eyes as he cups her face with his large hands lovingly, slight sense of concern behind his gaze. “...You alright, beautiful?”

She smiles a little and leans into his touch, placing a quick peck on his right palm. “Yeah! Y-Yeah….. just think I’m overwhelmed… maybe? At the start of today, I had no idea I had a father. And now I do. It’s all just…. strange. Very strange.”

Muriel grins with a knowing look and places a kiss on her forehead making her melt a bit by his affection. “...I completely get that… A lot to unpack all in one day.” _Well, that’s certainly true._ If anybody would understand how it feels to be suddenly family thrown into their lives, it’s Muriel.

“At least I didn’t get a whole long lost clan.” She says with a chuckle. The hermit can’t help but blurt out a hard laugh at that as well. It was a shock when they met his distant family this winter. Luckily, this time she didn’t have to remember about forty new names and faces and new culture.

Asra waltzes into the front to meet them both, feeling rather wary as well. “Rhemi are you doing alright? How are you feeling?”

Rhemi’s eyes meet Asra’s and she wraps her arms around her fiancé’s forearm leaning her head on his bicep. “I’ve got a small headache, but nothing to worry about. I have a feeling I’m going to call it a day a little early. I am mentally and emotionally drained.”

Asra smiles and places his hand on her right shoulder. “I completely understand.”

She lets go of Muriel and wraps her arms around her friend’s waist, squeezing tightly, happy that she had his support today. “Thanks for being here, Asra…”

Asra and Muriel exchange a wry glance, but he embraces her back, patting her shoulders kindly. “Of course, Rem…… I-... I’m happy for you.” Somehow, he can’t shake the bitter taste in his mouth when he says that. ‘ _Torn_ ’ perhaps is a better word; On one hand, he still doesn’t trust that man, something about him just is… off. _Sure he’s arrogant, snooty, and rude, but that shouldn’t cause someone to be untrustworthy—But why hasn’t Rhemi seen him in so many years?_ Why has he been looking for her? Something about this weird.... On the other hand, Rhemi is his best friend, and right now, she’s happy. He is glad that she is happy, and he doesn’t want to take that from her.

Rhemi exhales a long tired sigh before muttering into Asra’s shirt. “I am too... This is all just so new.”

As the two friends separate, they hold each other's hands and Asra notices the bag under her eyes, her normally rosy cheeks are even pale. A similar look she’d have before her catatonic episodes when he told her anything about her past. “Rhemi, are you feeling alright? You don’t look so great.”

She flutters her eyes and pulls her hands away to feel her face. “O-oh… I think it's just a headache, but nothing serious.”

“... Should I stay the night here?”

“ _Pssshh_! Wha-?” Rhemi shakes her head with a scoff. “No, no! Don’t you and Ilya have dinner plans?”

He shrugs. “He’ll understand, Rem.”

“Asra, no—you two go have fun. I’ll be just fine.”

“....I’ll take care of her.” Muriel places his large warm hand on her opposite shoulder.

She smiles wide, placing her hand on the top of his. “Scratch that— _we’ll_ be fine~”

Asra relaxes a bit more, realizing that she is still very coherent; in her previous episodes, she’d lose her balance, stumble over words, and become nauseous by now. Knowing that she wasn’t going to be alone eased his mind a bit and he smiles up at the tall hermit. “I know you will, Muri. You always have.”

The magician gets his hat and jacket, and heads out the back door with his bag on his shoulder, Faust slowly coming out of his shirt, still terrified. “Have a lovely night, Asra.” Rhemi says handing him his red scarf and satchel and he takes them one at a time. “...And… Thank you for dealing with all of…. _well_ —” She waves her hand vaguely around the door and herself, her cheeks feeling a bit flushed. “ _This_ today…. It’s a lot, I know. I’m not sure if I’ve processed all of this still….”

Her friend smiles as he opens the back door. “Don’t mention it. You know I’d do anything for you both, Rem.” He nods to Muriel as he steps outside. “Good night you two. Makes sure she actually gets some rest, Mur.”

Muriel nods firmly taking his instructions to heart. “Be safe Asra. It’s really coming down out there.”

“Ha—A little lightning never scares me~” He replies with a wink before shutting the door. “Nighty-night~.”

_**CLANK—** _

The door closes and Muriel locks it using the same spell that Rhemi uses. He’s gotten pretty good and some minor magic spells such as that, and he’s really good at plant magic now as well after returning from the south. His cousin and his mother’s best friend, Una, said he was a natural afterall. His mother would surely be proud. Rhemi thinks to herself with a cute grin.

Another sudden pulse of pain radiates Rhemi’s temples down to the back of her neck and she whimpers a little, rubbing her head. Must be the weather… Sometimes that happens during the Spring when the seasons are changing. She tries to grin and bear it, heading back to the reading room, rolling up her sleeves. “Better get cleaning.”

Muriel grumbles at her tugging the back of her corset belt gently before she gets into the kitchenette. “...You need to sit and relax.”

“B-... but Mur, there’s dishes to be done— _HEY_!”

Out of nowhere, he sweeps her off her feet and holds her in his arms so tenderly. “—Taken care of.” He replies with a determined look on his face.

“M-Muri! You didn’t have to do that!”

He grins cutely and kisses her forehead and she just pouts in his arms, her hands resting on his chest. “... Come on. You should relax after all of this today.”

“ _Ughhh_ … You’re starting to sound like Asra, Love. I’m not helpless ya know!”

He stares at her blankly, fighting the urge to laugh at her cute pouty face. “.... You’d say the same thing to me wouldn’t you?”

She ponders for a moment not wanting to agree, but then she decides to just give in. “I-... I… _Guess_ …. your right.” She rests her head on his chest, enjoying being in his warm arms as he ascends the stairs. She loves the way he holds her so securely

he’d never let her fall, yet at the same time he’s so gentle, never hurting her, not even slightly.

With a quick wave of her hand, Rhemi douses all of the candles and draws the curtains shut with her magic, making the downstairs nearly pitchblack. The upstairs room dimly lit by what little light is left peering through the clouds and veranda window, lightning occasionally flashing. Muriel then places his lover down to her feet and she heads over to the fireplace, quickly getting started on the fire with her blowing on the palm of her hand. Once the flames get going, with a subtle roar and it soon warms up the room.

The two have a small dinner of beef stew and some fresh bread from the baker. It made you that kind of good full, ready to sleep afterwards. After Muriel cleans up again, with Rhemi moderately protesting the entire time. Finally after giving up on this battle, she starts her nightly routine, then slips into her long night shirt to get ready for bed. After all the dishes are all completed and put away, Muriel does the same and brushes his teeth, then takes off everything but his underwear just like he normally does at night. He fondly watches as Rhemi plops to a seat at the end of the bed then rolls onto her side, unceremoniously tossing the decorative pillows to the floor with a cute, “Meh”. Then kicks down the covers. As soon as the hermit sits onto bed, Rhemi grabs his waist, loving his warmth. The two snuggle up together into the bed quietly; He lays on his back while she lays on his chest, draping her left leg around his abdomen comfortably, their hands interlaced and resting on his warm chest.

Both lay there silently for a moment, just listening to the sound of the dying fire smoldering. “.... S-So, _ah_ ,.... What do you think about him?” She finally asks, rubbing her thumb against his.

Muriel tenses as he hears that question, Rhemi can feel it right away. “...You… you mean your father?” She nods her head slightly, holding onto every word. Muriel leans his head back, pressing his head into the pillow and stares at the ceiling, fumbling for the right words. “....I dunno…… He’s… he’s… _ahhh_ … Heeee’s…. _mmmm_.”

Rhemi can’t help but giggle a little, knowing all too well the answer. “He’s not your cup of tea, is he?”

“—Not at all…” He flushes when he realizes how quick he was to admit that and he scratches the back of his head with his opposite hand, gazing at the window on the other side of the room. “...S-... Sorry….. but he was…. just so demeaning to everyone….. Acted all superior…. Smelled like he bathed in disgusting smelling cologne. He’s just like all the other noblemen, some stuck up, rich prick who thinks that everyone should kiss the ground he walks on.”

“... Yeah, I’m not going to argue with you there… He is very much a snooty nobleman. But I think he’s just very…. I dunno…. traditional?… Maybe?”

“... _Traditional_?”

“Yeah, _aahhhhh_ ….. chivalry-like, ya know?” She says, stifling a yawn. “He’s just probably used to talking to people like that.”

“ _Hmpf_....” Muriel grumbles with a sneer. “...Being ‘ _traditionally_ ’ doesn’t mean you get to be an ass all the time… especially to women…” Rhemi looks up at Muriell a little warily, and he huffs knowing that he should follow up with what he meant. “I… I just didn’t like how he talked to you. He doesn’t seem to be fond of anything without a dick……” He takes a moment to rub his tired face and sighs before continuing. “... _Anyways_... so far the guy is really nothing like you… Well…. except your terrible sense of humor with puns.”

Rhemi laughs a little though her nose and he pulls her tighter into his arms leaning down for a sweet affectionate long kiss on her lips. As they both pull away for air, she realizes something as she stares at his bottom lip. “Ohh, I, ahhh..... I’m going to meet him tomorrow morning at the palace gates. He’s staying with Nadia apparently and I want to show him the city before I introduce him to everyone else at tea in the afternoon.”

Conflicted, he shifts his long legs and then his hips a bit awkwardly, staring deep into her eyes. “.... You’re gonna…. go see him again?.... _Alone_??”

She tilts her head and bats her eyelashes. “.... Yes…. Why?”

“.... N-nothing… It’s just—” The hermit obviously wants to speak his mind, but is afraid of hurting her feelings. Slightly frustrated with himself, he huffs. “Never mind…. Doesn’t matter...”

Rhemi kisses his collarbone and he relaxes slightly making a cute little pleased moan. “...What is it, love? What’s bugging you?”

Knowing that there was no way out of this, he slightly groans, opening and closing his mouth. “... J-Just…. I want you to be careful around him…”

“What?... Why?” She asks with a half serious snort.

“I-.... I don’t trust him—Neither does Asra.”

Rhemi lifts her head a bit to look into both of his eyes, her amusement fading into concern. “Well..... Why not?”

“I… I don’t know…” Muriel pauses for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he thinks harder. “... Feel like….. like he’s hiding something....”

She nods a little, understanding where he might be coming from. “... I guess he is a little mysterious.” She reluctantly admits, but then she remembers the first time the two of them met in the forest, and how intriguing he was. With a cute little reminiscent smile, Rhemi walks her two first fingers up her lover’s sternum up to his neck then his chin, making him hot, flustered, and red all over, trying his best to not pop a boner right now. “... But then again, someone else we know was pretty mysterious when I first met him~” He winces when she boops his nose and he grumbles a bit, pouting a little and she kisses his jawline and giggles at his grumpiness. He knows she's right, but doesn’t want to admit it. Knowing she hasn’t convinced him, she wraps her arms around his strong neck, she snuggles up to him a bit more, burying her face into his trap muscle, peppering it with sweet kisses, slightly muffling her words. “... Maybe we just need to get to know him…. I feel like I should. He didn’t seem all that bad to me once he got settled for tea…”

 _Speak for yourself..._ Muriel sneers thinking to himself. He can’t help but think about the stranger’s cold teal eyes and how they looked so menacing to him.

“He really seemed to have missed me… I feel like part of him is very lonely…”

As she says that, he knows that he doesn’t necessarily have an excuse to not get to know the man other than his attitude issue and eerie facial features. Besides, Sir Martin obviously is here to stay in their lives now, no way of avoiding that. After a couple of seconds go by, the hermit takes in a large inhale and lets it all out with a begrudging sounding scoff. “Suppose….. you’re right…. You always are.” He kisses the top of her head and she wiggles her hips giddily. He then holds her back, scooting them both over sides so they’d face each other. Once he lets go, he plays with a piece of her reddish-brown wavy-curly hair. “....I’ll try to get to know him… for you.” He says as if it pained in to utter those words.

But Rhemi smiles brightly, her left hand running through his dark hair, scratching his scalp then takes her thumb to feel his sexy coarse stubble on his face, loving the way he melts into the pillow when she does. “Thank you, love…. I know this is a lot to ask for. But I really appreciate it.”

They both lean into each other kissing one another sweetly, when they break for air, they come to rest with their noses together and he snorts. “I’ll do anything for you, Rem…. May not always _like_ it… But I’ll do it.” Rhemi chuckles at her grumpy bear of a fiance, then tugs him to kiss his lips again. Suddenly, she pulls away, her head aching a little more, she winces a little and she rubs her temple with her free hand. He notices right away, sitting up his trunk on his side to look at her. “...You alright, beautiful?”

Despite the pain, she gives him a reassuring grin. “Y-yeah…. it’s just this freakin’ headache. Sorry…. Guess I should stop talking.”

“...That’s fine.” He says lowering his voice quieter.

“I’m sorry my head hurts.” She mutters resting her head to the pillow, closing her eyes, settling into a comfortable position.

“... Can’t help that.” He quietly replies, not wanting to make her pain any worse.

Feeling a bit more drowsy by the second, she groggily mutters back. “... And you didn’t have to come to bed with me. It’s still early.”

Muriel very carefully presses his forehead against hers looking at her lips, brushing his thumb on her face. “... I’m fine. I wanna be here with you… Just get some sleep.” He says just above whisper and places another feather light kiss on her lips, caressing her back with his arm.

“... I love you so much, Mur.” She mumbles as she starts to drift off.

“I love you too…” He murmurs back, staring at her face, still marveled at how beautiful she is. In just two short weeks, she’ll be his wife. The thought always brought him a love stucken smile to his shy face. “Sleep well.”

Once his soon-to-be wife has fallen fast asleep, he finds himself taking a minute to just gaze at her pretty face. In little moments such as these, it blows his mind about how he got here, to have such a beautiful, loving and kind person in his life. The thought of Rhemi becoming his wife in just two short weeks, always puts a love strucken smile on his face.

Finally, Muriel gets comfortable, turning his back towards her so his snoring doesn’t wake her, and the two slip into the realm of dream, both turning into majestic beasts yet again…

—————————————————————-

Rhemi discovers herself covered in fiery feathers, flying once again in the dark area, Muriel currently nowhere in sight. Ever since their trip to the south, Muriel has really gotten more control of leaping into dreams. Una, his mother’s best friend growing up and cousin by marriage said that leaping was a gift that the Great Mother and Great Father, the creators of the world, gave to their children. Gifts being the ability to leap into the past, the present, and the future. The Kokhuri were especially abundant in these gifts, and they seem to be hereditary. His mother, Glenna, and his father Artturi each had gifts as well. His mother had the gift of leaping into glimpses of the future and his father, Artturi could leap into dreams, just like Muriel.

Rhemi actually liked it when Muriel came into her dreams, something about it made her feel closer to him. Usually, she finds him in the forest, or the tundra, or perhaps a meadow of some kind when he comes. But tonight she’s flying in a dark and dense smokey fog. Nothing in sight for miles, just endless void. But suddenly, fire peaks out from the smoke and fog a few hundred feet beyond her, a vision of that eerie mansion burning in the distance. “Oh, no. Not this shit again…” She mutters to herself. Immediately, she swings around, flying fast away from it, completely ignoring the hot embers she can feel, her heart beating harder and harder by each passing moment. “I don’t want to deal with this…”

 _“...You can’t put this off forever, Rhemi.”_ An ominous voice creeps in Rhemi’s ears and she shutters, but still manages to keep flying straight. That voice. It came from her right, and she now notices faint fiery embers streaming from a pair of fluttering wings. It’s her…. The other Rhemi… Her past self before she died five years ago now. The magical creature is so sickly appearing, they stink of burned flesh and ash hurting Rhemi’s nose. The mangled looking bird emerges from the fog flying right next to her, her eyes still red, irises a dark burned orange. _“....I held it off as long as I could, but you need to remember.”_ Rhemi hasn’t seen her in quite some time, and hoping it would stay that way.

Hearing her own voice was unnerving, it's like hearing an echo, but it has a mind of its own--except it’s rougher sounding, like it is so tired, so depleted of energy.

Rhemi flutters her wings a little harder making her pull ahead. “...I-.... I don’t have to remember anything… None of that matters anymore. I just want to move forwards.” She stubbornly replies, not willing to have this conversation again. “... You sent me backwards. So get out of here—”

 _“—The monster is here, Rhemi. You know that it lives!”_ The dark phoenix cuts her off impatiently, flying in her path. The embers light up slightly with her words, her brow furrowed and looking irritated, but also exhausted. _“... You need to remember the truth.”_

Annoyed with all these riddles and half vague answers, Rhemi just hovers in place growling back. “What does that even mean?? Why can’t you just tell me?”

The tired looking bird just hovers there, looking towards the burning mansion. The screams of pain from the person inside make Rhemi’s heart drop, but she doesn’t dare look at it. _“.... You know you have to face it yourself.”_ Her past self finally replies.

“AHHHH!—ENOUGH!” Sick of getting nowhere quickly, Rhemi drives down and continues to fly away from the other phoenix. “—Just—Get away from me! Go be confusing in someone else’s dream!”

 _“Rhemi!”_ The smoldering bird cries out. Despite flying away from her, Rhemi can still hear her voice clearly in her ears as if she’s right beside her. _“....If you don’t face it soon, I fear what might happen!”_

She hears her warnings, but doesn't want to listen, flapping her wings, desperate to get away. “GO. AWAY!!” Rhemi blindly yells.

_“—The monster might consume you, Rhemi!”_

_…. What?..._

Those words catch Rhemi’s attention, and she turns around, fluttering in place, looking the dying creature in her sick bloodshot eyes. _“....If that happens, I don’t know I’ll be able to help you anymore…”_

A cold shiver runs down Rhemi’s spine hearing those words, unsure how to process this warning.

A ray of light makes Rhemi whip her long neck back ahead. Now a huge split in the dark heavy fog, and the sound of Muriel’s growl coming from it. She looks a bit closer, seeing a lust and green meadow between the dark clouds, this must be her way out. She takes one more quick look then hastily flies towards her lover, uttering to the creepy spector quietly. “...You. You are just a bad dream. A figment of my imagination that manifested into my subconscious and nothing more. You are just a part of my nightmares… And I don’t have to deal with it if I don’t want to.”

The other Rhemi just idles there in the fog, hovering in her same spot, sighing disappointedly and shakes her head slowly. _“.... We both know that's a lie….”_ She sadly mutters.

Ignoring her words, Rhemi soars into the beautiful meadow, when she glances back, the fog is completely gone, along with her past self and she breathes a sigh of relief. Muriel’s bear there waiting. The fiery bird perches on a nearby log, extinguishing her flames so the large bear can approach, and he nuzzles his cute nose into her feathery neck and she affectionately nibbles back with her beak. After a while, the two start to chance each other around the meadow with tall grass, just like they always did…

Hidden in the nearby trees, the smoldering phoenix conceals herself in the shadows. Watching as Rhemi continues to fly around with the bear, frustratingly choosing to enjoy her blissful ignorance. A harsh stinging in her left talon forces her attention at it with a soft squak; Her leg is turning into a powdery ash. Hastily, her irises glow to a slightly brighter orange, vigorously making the ash to harden back into a cracked and ill looking talon, trying her best to hold herself together. Once it’s put back together, she opens and closes it, flexing it to make sure it still is functionable. It’s working, but it’s still very stiff. 

_“.... I wasn’t supposed to be here this long...”_ She whispers, still staring at her dying talon, she looks like a sad piece of wood at the end of a fire, fragile, depleted of most of her heat. Her eyes then gaze at her decrepit state of her once beautiful and powerful wings, now she struggles to keep herself ablaze when in flight and she sighs so somberly. _“I’m so tired... I was not meant to stay here forever, Rhemi…”_

Rhemi pretends to not listen, but still she can hear her. Her and Muriel continue to play in the long tall grass, enjoying each other's company, but she can hear that damn bird, and it bothers her so…

———————————

A small sliver of light peering out of the small gap between the curtains falls on Rhemi’s face, waking her up earlier than she had wanted. Unable to get back to sleep, her mind starts to cloud her thoughts.

After a few tosses and turns, she finally gives up trying to get more sleep. Carefully, she slips out of bed, puts on her tight pants and shoes for warmth. Thankfully, her terrible headache is gone, but strange anxiety replaces it. _That damn other Me… Ruining a perfectly good dream._ She grumbles to herself in her head. _How the hell do I make her go away?? I thought I lost her for good back in the Steppe…. Why does she keep coming back?_

Still cold, she stifles her shivering, nearly chattering her teeth. Out of the corner of her eyes, she sees something cozy and warm, stealing Muriel’s long olive shirt hanging on the footboard of the bed. After donning the oversized shirt, she can’t help but take in a large sniff of the sleeves. _Ahhhhhh, Smells like him~_ Something cold and metallic however is in the pocket and she pulls the mysterious thing out. _Is this… a bent spoon?..._ She shook her head quietly, staring at a snoozing Muriel, who is now lightly snoring. _Why the hell is—You know what, I don’t wanna know…_

Sneakily, Rhemi makes her way down the stairs, careful not to step on any of the loose squeaky floorboards and wake up her sweet hermit. Lighting a few candles, she takes her notebook out of her leather bag and sits at the reading table, deciding to work on some of her magic to get her mind off her dreams.

About an hour goes by and Rhemi is fully engrossed in her work, thinking that she might have had a breakthrough with this spell she has been developing. Suddenly she hears the creaking of someone walking down the stairs, and sure enough a groggy Muriel with two cups of hot breakfast tea, one in each hand.

“Good morning my love.” Rhemi says with a warm happy smile.

Muriel grins sleepily, but stays quiet. Dressed in his pants and a different shirt, his hair rather adorably disheveled. He comes behind her, placing her cup of tea on the table, leans down kissing the top of her head. He snorts groggily, noticing what shirt she has on. “.... Figured you made off with that.”

“ _What_? I was cold and it looked cozy~” She says twirling her hair with her finger and an adorable flirty expression.

“ _Hmpf_.” He grumbles, hiding a smile as he takes a seat across from her, careful not to disturb any of her notes strewed about the round table. “...You’re up early.”

“Yeah, sorry.” She replies, shrugging sharply like does when she doesn’t want to talk about something. Her eyes on the page she’s writing, avoiding his sharp gaze, regretting the way she answered him.

“... Everything alright?” He asks before blowing on his hot cup of tea, then takes a small sip.

Rhemi feels a little sweat form on her brow, and her body clenches nervously and she picks up her eyes to look less suspicious. “Y-Yeah! I'm fine—Just… couldn’t sleep anymore… That’s all...” Immediately, her gaze went back to her notes still averting away from his green eyes, finishing up her thoughts before she forgets it.

Noticing her tension, he places his teacup down to the table and tilts his head, knowing all too well when she’s not telling the truth. “.... You’d tell me if something was bothering you…. _right_?” He asks with a sigh.

She takes a large inhale, relaxing her body, grabbing the rim of her teacup careful with her left hand. “.... Yeah….” She mutters, bringing the cup to her lips about to take a sip. “ _... OnceI’mreadytotalkaboutit…_.” She very quickly adds before taking a large swing.

Almost not hearing that last part, he confusedly asks, “What—?”

“-Ooooo! Mur! I wanna show you something!” She excitedly interjects, placing the tea cup back down in front of her, completely changing the topic.

“Oooh— _Ummm. Yeah,_ O-ok…” He replies, not wanting to forcefully pry this morning. Too early for that kind of shit anyways.

The apprentice enthusiastically moves her tea out of the way, and takes the small tray of sand and rocks from the nearby bench. Normally, it would be odd to see a random tray full of sand and rocks, but this is Rhemi. Nothing is too weird to see anymore and he doesn’t question it and he continues to sip on his morning tea, desperate for some caffeine in his system.

With a ginger smile, Rhemi conjures her magic into her hands, and makes the rocks and sand form into shape. First, a long spine comes to shape like a snake, but then two pairs of limbs emerges, then a long head and a pair of sharp horns and scales. He then realizes it’s a small dragon, no bigger than Muriel’s fist.

Rhemi holds hands up making them look strange like she’s holding invisible strings. The little dragon moves like a puppet, being manipulated with a little hand movements. He’s seen her do this before, she even taught Ava, his cousin from the south, how to use a variation of this so they could become a storyteller again. He’s seen this particular thing about a hundred times now, and nothing really has changed. It’s impressive, but it also just looks like an ordinary puppet, just made of pebbles.

“So, you know how I’ve been working with animating puppets lately?” She starts.

 _“Mmm-Hmm.”_ He mumbles slightly nodding, taking a sip of his tea, trying his best to look intrigued. Normally he is, but it's a bit early for show and tell right now, but he doesn’t have the heart to tell her. She gets so cute when she’s excited about things. “....‘Darcey the Diligent Dragon’, right?” He asks with a large yawn.

“Yes!!—Despite her awesome name, she is a little boring. No more than a normal marionette. When I make her, nothing really special happens, and she’s really restricted by the limitations of my hands. So, she’s rigid, mechanical, and predictable…. right?”

A small shrug rolls off his shoulders trying to follow, but is a little confused with where she’s getting at. “ _Ahhhh_ … I guess so…. still neat though.”

“Neat, sure. But not all useful other than just a silly party trick.

 _“.... ‘However’…..”_ Muriel says playfully imitating her with a small grin, knowing that she was going to say that next. Then immediately rests his head on his hand that is propped up by his elbow.

Rhemi giggles at how he knows her so well, and she raises her pointer finger, making the dragon rock puppet fall down lifelessly, but still holding its form. “Howeverrrrrr—” She pauses, picking up a small needle in opposite her hand from a pincushion nearby.

The amused smile falls from his Muriel’s as she moves the sharp end of the pin closer to her extended pointer finger. “H-Hey, Rem—What are you—”

Suddenly, she pricks her left pointer finger, and she grimaces slightly, squeezing her finger making a little blood bubble up on the pad of her small digit. The hermit is stunned silent, his eyes insanely wide, staring helplessly at her while she drops a single blot of blood on the creature.

All of a sudden, the creature twitches like it is growing muscles underneath the rocks and sand, blue, yellow and red flaring all around it. For a brief movement, Rhemi a shutter slightly, and the whites of her eyes turn black for a split second, making Muriel’s stomach turn at the creepy sight. The little puppet shakes its head, its pupil-less eyes glowing orangey-red, fluttering open and closed, moving on it’s own. 

Rhemi lips twist into a large proud and delighted smile and she shakes her hips excitedly. She brings up her hands, wiggling her fingers showing that she no longer needs them to control the creature. “Now I can just tell it what to do with my mind! Isn't it awesome?!?” She says enthusiastically, smiling ear to ear as the small dragon bellows out a little stream of fire, holding a fierce pose, then sputters a black smoke. Thrilled at her creation, she puts her hands on her hips, puffing her chest out. “Soooooo! Whatcha think?!?”

Muriel just sits there in his chair silently, he looks so uncomfortable the way he’s almost leaning back as if to keep away from it. When the dragon comes closer to his hand, he shutters, drawing his arm away as if it were something deadly. Perplexed, Rhemi bats her eyes, noticing his discomfort and her excited smile droops a frown. “Muriel? Something wrong?”

He swallows the lump in his throat, then finally utters with his eyes looking so conflicted. “.... When did you start using blood magic?”

 _Well…. This is new._ Never has Rhemi seen Muriel look like this after showing him a new spell. He is normally so supportive of her. She opens her palm, placing it down to the table, welcoming the creature. The little dragon hops into her hand, sharing her expression.

“I mean… I’ve used it before… once or twice… I just thought about using it for this— _Why_?”

His skin seems to be getting paler as he stares at her finger, that she’s putting slight pressure with her thumb to stop it from oozing little drops of blood. His lips and nose crinkle, unsure exactly how to explain himself. “... I… You-.... That’s…. T-This is—”

“.....You don’t like it. Do you?”

Those green eyes meet hers once again, and he shakes his head grimly. “Using blood magic is…. Just— I… I don’t like it. It’s spooky… Isn’t it…. _dark_ magic?”

“I won’t call it dark magic….” She mumbles, scratching the back of her head. “Just… _different_. It can make weak spells stronger… It’s more of a gray… _area_...” The more words come out of her mouth, the more she realizes how bad it sounds. _Hmmmm. Okay… Muri might have a point…_ she nods to herself.

“I.... I don’t like you hurting yourself for the sake of a ‘ _neat new spell’_ ….” Muriel sneers, pushing his chair away from the table, he looks so upset when his eyes glances at her. She slumps into herself placing the dragon back onto the plate of sand and rock, feeling like she’s being scolded right now. Realizing how mean he might have sounded after seeing her expression, he averts his eyes, placing his tea down to the table and rubbing his tired face. She was excited to show him this, and he feared he just ruined all her fun.

“...But-... You're a perfect grown adult, and you know what you’re doing I guess…. I’m not gonna tell you what to do—Just… be careful.” He finally adds.

The dragon’s eyes vanish and it suddenly crumbles apart back into sand and rocks completely lifeless, and Rhemi sighs, feeling so utterly terrible. Nothing is worse than her beloved making that face. _“Ohhhh,_ my sweet Grumpy Bear!... If it bothers you that much, consider this experiment over with.” She says shutting her notebook, showing him that she means it.

Pink once again, stains his cheekbones, and he scratches his neck, looking towards the opposite wall in the reading room. “Y-You— …. I don’t want you to feel like I’m telling you what to do—”

“—I don’t think that, Muri….” She replies reassuringly as she walks over to his side of the table. Wedging herself between where he’s sitting and the table, she holds his warm still sleepy face in her hands, apologetically staring at him with her warm crimson red eyes. “I never want to make you feel uncomfortable like that.”

Feeling guilty for his grumbling, he looks at her notebook, she put so much effort into this. “But..... You did all that work...”

“—Don’t worry about that….” She says moving his head so his gaze would return to her’s. “...The fact is, you don’t like it, and believe it or not, your feelings are valid. This obviously bothers you, love….. We’re going to be married soon, I want us to continue to be open about things. Especially when something I do bothers you.” Resting her forehead against his, she softly closes her eyes, lips just inches apart and she sweetly whispers, “We’re partners, remember?”

Rhemi can feel as Muriel’s large broad shoulders relax, his head practically melting into her hands, his body language steaming with relief. “....Thank you.” He murmurs back just before he meets her lips with a sweet loving kiss and he wraps his large hands around her small waist bringing her closer in between his legs. Her hands around his torso lightly scratch his back and shoulders, and he makes a cute low gravelly happy groan.

_—COO-COO!—COO-COO!—COO-COO!!!_

“ _MMMM_!—Shoot!” The apprentice unexpectedly pulls away with a sharp gasp only when she hears the coo-coo clock chime. It's eight o’clock, and it takes a while to get to the palace from here. “—I’m sorry, love! I’ve gotta get going!”

“... Going?” He mumbles, confused watching her scamper off. Then remembers what they talked about last night, about meeting up with her father at the palace and he shakes his head. “Oh… Right… _Sir McPuffy-Pants…_ ” He sneers saying his name. “.... Forgot about that...”

Rhemi hastily jets upstairs, gets herself dressed in her long sleeved mauve shirt, long tight pants, dark gray-sh umber colored corset and boots. Almost leaping down the stairs, she stops by the mirror hanging on the wall next to the velvet sofa, putting on a little makeup to freshen up. Muriel leans his body into the wall, looking a bit sad. “I’m sorry I have to rush off, Mur…” She says wrapping her arms around his waist.

“S’ok.” He grumbles, not very pleased that she has to rush off yet again. Usually, the two would eat breakfast together before getting on with their days. But lately, all they seem to be doing is going, going, going. Ironically, they are more apart preparing for a day that celebrates them being united together.

Feeling a bit bad about his somber expression, knowing that he’s down because she’s leaving, she holds him a little tighter. But then, an idea pops inside her head and she looks up at him with a devilish smirk. “...Maybe tonight when I get back… we can go to the hut and…. _ah_ … have a nice little date night?....” Slowly, her hand caresses his abdominal muscles pulling his shirt up a little, and she quickly glances to his trousers, wiggling her eyebrows and she can feel as his chest heats up.

“... What kind of date are you talking about?” He says with a pink staining his cheeks and a grin spread across his lips as he runs his fingers through her hair, catching onto what she’s implying.

“.... Ya’ know… The kind where we spontaneously start to undress in front of the other…. then your fat cock is suddenly in my mouth~” She says biting her lower lip looking mischievously, and she makes a cute flirty giggle.

Instantly, he fluses hard sporting a silly horny smile and he scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “Well, _ah_ —I… I mean…. I wouldn’t mind that.”

 _“Tee-hee._ Good~” She says above a whisper and she stands on her tiptoes tugging his belts on his chest and he leans down to meet her. “....So it’s a date then.” She says before giving him a sweet kiss on his lips. Before she can pull away, he kisses her back feeling her hip bones, then squeezes her ass a little and she trembles with excitement, but pulls away from him before she gets too into it. “-Hey now! Don’t make me take you here and now.”

“You can be a little late….” He cutely utters, his thumb feeling her bottom lip staring at her longingly, half serious.

“Muri~ You made me late yesterday!” She whines playfully, holding his hand that's holding her face. She intended to pull it away so she could get out the door, but finds herself unable to.

His iconic blush returning back to his face, nervously laughs as he mumbles. “...Didn’t hear you _complaining_ …”

“Shuddup~” She pouts before lightly chomping on his thumb with a, _“Nom!”_ , bringing him out of his dirty mind.

“ _Oww_ —Hey! Don’t bite me!” He winces with a startled chuckle pulling his thumb out of her mouth. “That’s not playing fair!”

“ _Pffft_! Oh yeah—Like you play _fair_!” She giggles sarcastically as she grabs her cross body bag. “At five, little Mrs. Edilen is going to come pick up her rheumatism potion before closing. How about we meet here before going back to the hut? Maybe go to the market to find something for dinner? Get Nana a fresh juicy steak?”

“Sounds good to me.” Muriel says with a wry smile, leaning down once again, this time for a loving goodbye kiss.

“I love you, Muriel.” Rhemi says sweetly, hugging him tightly.

He hugs her back, nearly picking her off her feet. “Love you too. Please be safe.”

“I will. I promise.” She says before turning her heels, both of them reluctant to let go.

Muriel watches as Rhemi walks down the street before shutting the door, still having a bad feeling in the pit of his gut about her being alone with that nobleman. But then again, he always has bad feelings about most things that end up being harmless. Just, something about Sir Martin is almost familiar… Like he’s seen him before, but doesn’t quite remember where or when. Muriel’s stomach turns at all the uncertainty. Knowing himself, he’s going to worry about it all day until he sees her again.

“She’ll be fine.” He mumbles to himself, pressing his head against the top short door frame, trying to calm his nerves. “.... She can take care of herself… She’s not as frail as she used to be.... Rhemi. Can. Take. Care. Of. Herself.”

“ _Ahem_ … Excuse me, kind sir.” An all too familiar voice chimes in with a little chuckle.

Muriel glances down a little surprised, feeling terribly embarrassed someone has caught him talking to himself, and his whole upper body turns bright red. But immediately he relaxes seeing the white hair and Faust around the person’s neck. Asra’s giving him the smuggest expression, and Muriel just rolls his eyes with a little grin.

“I’m looking for a potion, might have any idea where I could find one?” Asra says jokingly.

“...Get in here, you weirdo.” Muriel snorts, grabbing his friend’s hat off his head and moving aside.

With a teasing laugh, Asra proceeds to walk in, doffing his scarf, vest, and bag. “Where’s Rhemi running off to?”

Muriel shuts the door, and locks it. His smile falling, and he replies with a sigh. “To the palace…”

Confused, Asra bats his eyelashes. “What? I thought tea was this afternoon?”

“To see her father.” Muriel adds.

The magician's purple eyes cheery glow disappears, usually Rhemi tells him these things. “ _Oh_ ….. She must have forgotten to tell me that...” He says hanging up his things, shrugging it off.

It is Saturday after all, the shop is closed only for people picking up things anyways, not like he has anything else better to do. That’s not the problem anyways. Rhemi is just one of his best friends, and they talk about things like this. That’s all. It’s no fun being out of the loop sometimes. He also is worried about her meeting up with this strange man too.

Muriel awkwardly rubs his opposite shoulder. “... Made some tea… want some?”

Asra smiles warily, still looking worried as well, but yet he smiles, unable to deny his kind offer. “Thanks, Muri. That sounds lovely.”

##  _**✨To be continued...** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for everyone who is reading this for being so patient, IRL life has been just busy is all. 
> 
> Sorry this is a short chapter, but it just felt right to end it here. Hopefully the next chapter will be completed soon, and I hope you all continue to enjoy it!
> 
> As always, Thanks for reading my hot garbage~

**Author's Note:**

> Strap in... this is gonna be a bumpy ride.
> 
> Thanks for reading my hot trash!!!
> 
> Check out my instagram and/or tumblr @madllamamomma for updates, cover art, and more!


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